The Penetrator of Darkness: Year One
by malfoyforever
Summary: 2017-2018 school year. A new era, a new villain, three new heroes: Rose, Scorpius, and Albus. Three different stories. Follow them as they go through their first year, as they discover their true identity and the weight of their destiny.
1. At Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry's

At Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry's

Hermione turned the doorknob, letting herself into her daughter's room. The curtains were drawn, and she spied her daughter sleeping peacefully, sprawled out on her small bed. Her mouth was open, soft snores escaping, and she was smirking slightly.

It was not Hermione's favourite job to wake her daughter in the morning; the mother knew from experience that Rose could be from perfectly courteous to extremely beastly, her tempers varying thanks to the quality of her dream, when she had gone to bed the previous night, and the hour in which Hermione woke her. The Muggle-born witch felt rather sorry for her roommates, in whichever House Rose would get Sorted into.

Quietly, Hermione swept to the curtains and parted them, revealing some sunlight. Her brown eyes travelled to the bed, where her daughter was blinking, still, presumably, half-asleep. She sighed and forced herself to smile at Rose.

"Good morning, sweetie," she said softly. "It's time to wake up."

"_Why_?" Rose grumbled. "It's only-" She squinted at her alarm clock. "It's only eight thirty, Mum."

"_Already_ eight-thirty," Hermione corrected. "Do you remember what day it is, Rosie?"

"What day?" the girl snapped, rather crossly. "It's _Friday_."

"Friday, September first," she tossed Rose a Muggle outfit. "We still have to go to Ginny and Harry's, hon."

"Oh, yeah." Rose frowned at the clothes. "Can't I just wear robes, Mum?"

Hermione noticed her daughter was looking rather longingly at her closed closet door – her new robes for Hogwarts were hanging inside. The mother sighed. "You can't wear those to the platform, Rosie-"

"I _can_, Mum. James told me Neville and Hannah were wearing their usual clothes when they saw Blizzard and Valerie off at the station last year."

"You shouldn't listen to everything James says," Hermione replied, pursuing her lips. "He's known to be rather... untrustworthy."

Rose scowled at her. "I can tell for myself when he's telling the truth, thank you-"

Before either of them could continue their argument, Hugo stuck his head in the doorway, looking awkward. "Dad told me to tell you two to, er, hurry up and come downstairs. He says he's cooking breakfast this morning."

Hermione looked worried. She wasn't sure if she trusted her husband with the kitchen. "Alright," she said, getting up and giving a stern look to Rose, who gazed at her rather crossly. "Rosie, you'd better be downstairs in ten minutes, young lady. Hugo, let me get you another pair of pants, did you see the hole at the back?"

"Aw, _gerroff_, Mum," Hugo groaned. "It's fine."

His mother shook her head. "It's not as if you don't have any other clothes, Hughie. Maybe your jeans are in the dryer," she insisted, and with a pleading look from Hugo that Rose smiled sympathetically at, Hermione dragged her son out.

Rose decided that she would put her robes under her clothes; that way, she would be able to change out of them in the car without having to waste time in the Hogwarts Express. She smiled momentarily at the brilliantness of her plan and, having executed it, went down to the kitchen for breakfast.

She was greeted by two tired voices, her mother absent. "Morning," Rose yawned at her dad and her brother, pulling out a chair to sit beside Hugo. "What's for breakfast, Dad?"

"Oh, sausages and scrambled eggs," Ron said cheerfully. "There's milk in the fridge, help yourself."

After a tiny nibble at a sausage in the plate shoved up to her, Rose concluded that her father had not messed up any ingredients. Relieved that her food was not poisoned, she began wolfing down her breakfast, ignoring the remarks from her mother about her table manners, who had come back from the laundry room.

"It's OK, Hermione," Ron chuckled. "I think I have worst ones."

He was met with an unimpressed look from his wife, who then proceeded to rolling her eyes. "That's not exactly something to be proud of, _Ronald_," she snapped, stressing on Rose's dad's full name.

Knowing better than messing with their mother when she was in a foul mood such as this one, Rose and Hugo ate for the most in silence, occasionally speculating on which House each of them (the cousins that hadn't yet attended Hogwarts, that is) would be Sorted into.

Ron fumbled over how to insert the keys into the ignition, grumbling what sounded like curses under his breath. Hermione glared at him, though she seemed more anxious than angry. Rose supposed it was because she was leaving for Hogwarts, and Hugo in two years after that, as James had told her Aunt Ginny had been the same before his departure.

The family of four ran the doorbell a good ten or eleven times before Uncle Harry finally opened the door, looking exhausted, holding a coffee mug in one hand, wearing a holey white shirt. It seemed to Rose that her uncle had probably just gotten out of bed, dragged out by the sound of the doorbell.

"Sorry," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Gin was in the laundry room, James in the shower, and Lills and Al were being rather uncooperative."

"_Dad_!" exclaimed an indignant-sounding voice. Al had appeared behind his father, smiling sheepishly at the lot of them. "It was _Lily's_ fault."

"Was _not_!" Lily's voice shouted from the inside of the house.

Harry smiled tolerantly. "No matter. You can come in – did you have breakfast?"

"Yes," Rose said, grinning at him and Al. "Dad cooked."

Her uncle raised an eyebrow at that and chuckled. "I'd like to taste that, mate," he told Ron, who seemed a tad offended. The redhead followed his old friend inside and, when Harry had put the mug on the kitchen table, punched his arm playfully.

"_No_ one seems to have faith in my cooking abilities," Ron grumbled.

"Maybe you should cook more often, then," Harry replied, winking at Rose and Hugo, and then at Hermione. "Your family might trust your skills more."

"What about _you_?" Rose's dad demanded.

Harry shrugged, his bright green eyes peering up at them rather innocently. "The kids had cereal and whatever was left in the pantry and the fridge for breakfast today – I'm planning to stop at the grocery after work."

Ginny joined them later, and, as Rose had predicted, seemed to be in a mood similar to Hermione's – although she did hide it better. James descended a few moments after that, water still dripping from his mop of messy black hair, a towel draped on his shoulders.

"Hola, Rosie," he said carelessly, his elbow on the table.

"Mind your elbow," Harry reminded him rather good-naturedly.

"_Yes_, Dad."

Rose sighed. "Hullo, Jamesie."

"Gryffindor, then?"

"How much times did I remind you to stop harassing your poor cousin on that?" Ginny said, looking apologetic. "Sorry, Rose."

She swallowed her tea. "It's OK, Aunt Gin." She glanced at James, smirking at his crestfallen demeanour. "I'm probably going to Gryffindor."

"You _must_!" James exclaimed, quite loudly. "You'd be quite an asset to our-" He clapped a hand over his mouth and flushed.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, exchanging accomplices' looks with her husband. "We didn't hear that, Jamesie."

Al and Lily were staring at him rather curiously now.

"Well," the second year said, getting up, "I'm going upstairs to change. See me in the Gryffindor common room once you're Sorted, Rosie."

"It's _Rose_," Rose snapped.

"What makes him so sure that you're going to be Gryffindor?" Hermione inquired.

She shrugged. "Wishful thinking. He made a bet with Rick about that, I think."

Ginny shook her head at that. "I'll have to keep a closer watch on him, that one."

"All too true," Harry nodded.

The two families said their goodbyes on the driveway, where Harry and Ron established that they would meet somewhere at the platform before the children would board the train. With that, they took off in their separate cars.

Rose was practically bouncing in the seat, so much that Hugo even looked up from his book and told her, curtly, to cut it out. She ignored that and closed her eyes as she felt the wind blowing her bushy curls.

She could hardly wait to get to the Hogwarts Express, to begin her formal schooling.

* * *

**And this is the first chapter of _The Penetrator of Darkness: Year One_, rewritten :) I decided to add this along with Al's POV in the epilogue, and then we're jumping into the original story with Scorpius! **

**Please read and review! **


	2. Worries at Platform 9 and Three Quarters

Worries at Platform 9 and ¾

"Two years," sniffed Lily, "I want to go _now_!"

Al rolled his eyes. He was about to nudge her and call her a sissy again but James was back, smirking at him. He scowled and growled, rebuking a string of curses that could have gotten his mouth Scourgified, and said, "I _won't_! I _won't_ be in Slytherin!"

James was such a bother! Though contrarily to the usual, what his brother stated was right. He _was_ dead afraid of ending up in Slytherin.

"James, give it a rest!" Ginny demanded, giving her elder son a glare.

"I only said he _might_ be," said James, grinning at Al, "There's nothing wrong with that. He _might _be in Slyth-"

But James caught his mother's eye (_Ha_, the Prewett glare, thought Al) and fell silent. The Potters approached the barrier. With a slightly cocky look over his shoulder at Al (the boy scowled), James took the trolley from his mother and broke into a run. A moment later, he had vanished.

"You'll write to me, won't you?" Al asked his parents immediately, grateful for James's absence. He would never hear the end of this if James got wind of this, the prat.

"Every day, if you want us to," said Ginny.

Al reddened slightly. He did _not_ want to be called a baby! "Not _every_ day," Al said quickly, "James says most people only get letters from home once a month."

"We wrote to James three times a week last year," said Ginny, smiling.

"And you don't want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts," Harry put in. "He likes a laugh, your brother."

_I am going to punch that git... And I hope Rose doesn't hear that. She would tell James right away, and _they_ tend to band together. _

Side by side, they pushed the second trolley forward, gathering speed. As they reached the barrier, Al winced, but no collision came. Instead, the family emerged on to platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by thick, white steam that was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express.

"Where are they?" asked Al, peering at the hazy forms they passed as they made their way down the platform.

"We'll find them," said Ginny, ruffling his messy black hair.

But the vapour was dense, and it was difficult to make out individual faces.

"I think that's them, Al," said his mother suddenly.

A group of four people emerged from the mist, standing alongside the very last carriage. Their faces only came into focus when Harry, Ginny, Lily, and Al had drawn right up to them.

"Hi," said Al, sounding relieved, something he would have never done on a normal day. But, he thought as he breathed in deeply in excitement and apprehension, September first was _not_ a normal day.

Rose, who was already wearing her Hogwarts robes, beamed at him (though it resembled a well-disguised smirk). He was proven right when she leaned in and whispered, "Doing well, dolt? You seem whiter than a few moments ago at your house."

"Shut it," he hissed back.

"Parked all right, then?" Ron asked Harry. "I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I'd have to Confund the examiner."

Hermione gave him a scathing look. "No, I didn't. I had complete faith in you."

"So, from what I heard from James," Rose said to Al, "You're scared sick of going to Slytherin, that true?"

Al scowled at her.

"It's true," she decided with a smirk (trust Rose to turn any nervous situation into a bickering). "Coward!"

"Am not!"

"Blimey, it's_ obvious_," Rose shook her head and sighed. Hermione gave her daughter a look.

"Rose, don't pester your cousin."

"Mum, I believe that is not called _pestering_-"

"_Rose Ixora Weasley_," warned Hermione.

Rose gave her a bored look and shrugged. Al and she turned to Lily and Hugo's discussions on which House they would be once they finally attended Hogwarts.

"You know, I told you, Lily, I want to be in Ravenclaw," said Hugo, and opened the book he had been carrying.

"Yeah, I know," Lily said, "I think I want to be in Gryffindor. It'd be cool, right?"

"Mm-hmm," murmured Hugo.

"If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," said Ron, "but no pressure."

"_Ron_!"

Lily and Hugo laughed, but Al frowned and Rose said under her breath, "That's very _nice_, Dad. Gee, _wicked_ parenting there."

"He doesn't mean it," said the cousins' mothers, but Ron was no longer paying attention. Catching Harry's eye, he nodded covertly to some point some fifty yards away. The steam had thinned for a moment, and three people stood in sharp relief against the shifting mist.

"Look who it is."

A tall man with platinum blonde hair and pointed features was standing there, with whom Al assumed was his wife and son. His son resembled his father very much, as much as Al resembled Harry, but his hair was darker and his eyes kinder. He caught sight of the four adults staring, nodded curtly, and turned away again.

"Bet he's embarrassed," muttered Harry, "for what happened during the rebellion."

"So that's little Scorpius," said Ron under his breath. "Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."

Rose smiled at her father sweetly. Al rolled his eyes.

_Yeah, Aunt Hermione's brains and uses them for scheming and plotting revenge... _

"Ron, for goodness's sake!" said Hermione. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"

_I seriously doubt it. Rose is looking pretty interestingly at that Scorpion kid, like those wizards in the teenage magazines Dominique has... _

"You're right, sorry," said Ron, but unable to help himself, he added, "don't get _too_ friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood."

_Humph. Fat chance, Uncle Ron, but Rose looks like she's considering how to snog him... _

"Hey!"

Al scowled; that was James's voice.

"Teddy's back there," he said breathlessly, pointing vaguely over his shoulder, "Just seen him! And guess what's he doing? _Snogging_ Victoire!"

Both cousins rolled their eyes at him.

"_Our_ Teddy! _Teddy Lupin_! Snogging _our_ Victoire! _Our_ cousin! And I asked Teddy what he was doing-"

"You interrupted him?" said Ginny, shaking her head. "You are _so_ like Ron-"

"- and he said he'd come to see her off! And then he told me to go away. He's _snogging_ her!"

"There are worst things, Jamesie," muttered Rose, smirking. Al nodded in agreement.

"Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!" whispered Lily. "Teddy would _really_ be part of the family then!"

Al patted her shoulder. _Dream on, sis. Though it is highly probable. _

"He already comes round for dinner about four times a week," said Harry, smiling down at her. "Why don't we just invite him to live with us and have it done with?"

"Yeah!" said James enthusiastically. "I don't mind sharing with Al – Teddy could have my room!"

_Mate, you're deluding yourself. You put a snake under my bed last summer when we went camping! D'you think I'm that incompetent? _

"No," said Harry firmly, "you and Al will share a room only when I want the house demolished."

He checked his battered watch.

"It's nearly eleven, you'd better get on board."

_Finally! Cheers, Dad! _

"Don't forget to give Neville our love!" Ginny told James as she hugged him.

"Mum! I can't give a Professor _love_!"

"But you _know_ Neville-"

James rolled his eyes. Al couldn't have agreed with him better.

"Outside, yeah, but at school he's Professor Longbottom, isn't he? I can't walk into Herbology and give him _love_..."

"Technically, you _can_," Rose told Al, "but it would seriously harm your social status."

Shaking his head at Ginny's foolishness, he aimed a kick at Al. Al kicked him back, wishing he knew some good hexes.

"See you later, Al. Watch out for the Thestrals."

"I thought they were invisible? _You said they were invisible_?"

"Only if you hadn't seen death," murmured Rose. "Jamesie needs to pick up a book once in a while, that one."

James leapt onto the train and Al saw him embrace Aaron and Thomas, the Gryffindor twins, and the three of them set off to find Rick Abbott and Valerie Longbottom.

"Thestrals are nothing to worry about," Harry told Al. "They're gentle things, there's nothing scary about them. Anyway, you won't be going up to the school in the carriages, you'll be going in the boats."

_At least they won't eat me. Well, boats can drown you... And I heard there's an octopus or calamari or squid... Something like that. _

Ginny kissed Al goodbye.

"See you at Christmas."

"Bye, Al," said Harry, as Al hugged him. He felt like a little boy again. He didn't want to go, suddenly. "Don't forget Hagrid's invited you to tea next Friday. Don't mess with Peeves. Don't duel anyone 'til you've learned how. And don't let James wind you up."

Al inhaled his father's scent and nodded, but he had one last thing on his mind.

"What if I'm in Slytherin?"

The whisper was for his father alone, and Harry nodded as if he understood and crouched down to Al's level.

"Albus Severus," Harry said quietly, "you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."

_Really? _

"But _just say_-"

"-then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matters to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choices in account."

"Really?"

"It did for me," said Harry.

Al frowned at him, but nodded.

_Not too sure 'bout that, but I trust you, Dad. _

He stepped onto the train, Rose waiting impatiently for him. She punched his shoulder.

"Crying over Daddy?" she smirked.

Al scowled at her. "Why are they all _staring_?" He had turned and saw many students staring at him and Rose.

"Don't let it worry you. It's me. I'm extremely famous," said Ron.

"Dad, lying is _bad_," muttered Rose, smiling slightly and chuckling. She turned to Al. "We'll have to check you for amnesia. Looks like you forgot you were related to Harry Potter."

"Ha ha, _very funny_."

But Al followed her, looking for a compartment, until they found one that was practically empty, where a blonde boy was staring out of the window and doodling on a piece of parchment paper.

He looked up with big grey eyes.

"Hello, I'm Scorpius," he called in a quiet voice. "Who're you?"

And that marked the beginning of a long friendship.

* * *

**I might have changed and added a few things here and there, but essentially, it's the epilogue, from Al's POV. Next up is the ride to Hogwarts, with the three's perspectives. **

**Also: There will be a few changes of the PJ universe as we know. For example, Mount Olympus may not be in America, certain characterisations of gods will change, and other things. However, Nico and other characters from PJ will appear, so technically it's an HP/PJ Crossover still. **

**End of rant, please read and review! **


	3. Their First Ride

Their First Ride

Now, on to Scorpius's perspective of what happened before and during the epilogue. After a rather small breakfast in the kitchens at Malfoy Manor, Scorpius had managed to shake off the house-elf Batty, insisting that he was full. On the contrary, he was still rather hungry, but he had decided that he would buy some lunch in the form of sweets on the Hogwarts Express.

Of course, Scorpius not being dumb, he had noticed the four adults staring at him at the platform. In fact, he had noticed not only the redheaded woman, redheaded man, brown-haired woman, and even Harry Potter staring at him, rather rudely in his opinion, but also numerous others. Some of the adults even gave him and his family strange looks. Scorpius didn't like it, being stared at as if he were Potter spawn, but he was used to it, he guessed.

He had settled into an empty compartment in the Hogwarts Express, glad that his mother had let him go, as she had been rather tearful on the platform. Scorpius was a tad mystified at that. He wasn't quite used to people shedding tears for him; Malfoys did not do that. _Malfoys_ were strong and tough.

Hunter, his eagle owl, screeched when the train began moving, but Scorpius stroked his feathers and murmured at him. Once the great bird had quieted, the boy took his sketchpad and started doodling a portrait of his owl, promising himself to hang it in his bedroom's vast collection once he got back to Malfoy Manor at Christmas.

The compartment door slid open at that moment; an ochre-haired girl and a black-haired boy stumbled in, eyeing him rather apprehensively, though the girl looked less fearful and more curious. She was however quiet; Scorpius decided to introduce himself. They looked friendly enough, even if they were mysteriously fearful of him.

"Hello, I'm Scorpius," he called. "Who're you?"

"I'm Albus Potter, but you can call me Al," said the other boy, his bright green eyes staring at him. "Everyone calls me that. This is my cousin Rose; Rose Weasley."

He had pointed at Rose, who blushed, and, without invitation, sat down along with Al, facing Scorpius.

"What House do you want to be in?" Scorpius asked, putting his pencil and his other material back into his book bag. He did not need it anymore; that was a boredom buster. Hunter eyed them in a rather unfriendly fashion. Rose's owl, who was sitting in a cage on the table between them, hooted frighteningly and flapped his wings at Hunter. The eagle owl did not seem the least impressed and began cleaning his feathers in a bored manner.

"I want to be in Gryffindor, like my parents," Rose said, her previous timidity seemingly evaporated. "_You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart. Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart_," she quoted. She paused. "Or Ravenclaw," she interjected. "_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_."

Scorpius decided that he liked her, though he did think she seemed a little bossy, like his sister, Megara.

"Yeah, me as well. Gryffindor, I mean. But I don't want to be in Slytherin, even though Mum and Dad insist that they won't mind in whichever House I get Sorted into." He looked slightly worried and stared at the floor. It seemed to Scorpius that he had paled slightly.

"I don't know," Scorpius said, shrugging. He could feel their surprised eyes on him, grey blue and emerald green. "I don't really want to be in Slytherin either, even though Father was one. I definitely don't want Hufflepuff, but Ravenclaw doesn't seem all that bad. Father would have kittens if he found out I made Gryffindor, but really, I don't mind."

Of course, he did not want to, and for a couple of good reasons. He did not like its Dark reputation – Scorpius had enough of a Dark reputation already, what with his family name – and he thought that it was rather queer to have to dorm in the dungeons; what was wrong with a tower or even the Hufflepuff basements? He did not like the pureblood prejudice surrounding the House – he despised what his parents promoted, despite his father's unfortunate involvement in the war.

"I've heard all about Hogwarts," Al boasted. "My brother, James, is a second year."

Rose rolled her eyes at that and kicked him from under the table.

"Oh," Scorpius said politely. He wondered why the boy was saying that. He had seemed so timid at first.

"You might have been hearing lies," Rose said, smirking. "James is rather dense. His brain is filled with flies, that one."

Scorpius had to smile at that. "Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"

Al shook his head grimly, giving his cousin a look. "James is too busy fooling around to bother doing anything more intelligent," he explained, and then paused. "Did you ever play Quidditch?"

"A few times, with my cousin and a few of my friends," Scorpius answered.

"Your cousin?" Rose said.

"Alcmene Nott, first year," Scorpius shrugged. "She probably went with a few older Slytherins, or somewhere by herself. She's quite the loner, but she's rather nice, really."

"You're not meeting any of your friends on the train today?" Al blurted out. Scorpius frowned at him for a moment, and then understood. Al was probably afraid that he would ditch him for them. Suppressing a chuckle, which would have been very impolite indeed, he shook his head.

"They're mostly children of my father's friends," he said, emphasizing the word _father_. "The Zabini children, the Goyle brothers, the Beetle children – mostly all purebloods." He yawned, visibly bored. "They come over every Christmas for a banquet. It's quite dull, very awkward."

The cousins laughed. Scorpius had, in fact, formulated a backup plan to find Alcmene, if he was especially bored, but it seemed that he wouldn't need it anymore. He smiled. He was glad that he finally had friends outside his father's circle of the oldest pureblood families.

* * *

Rose sighed and shifted on her seat, massing her neck as she turned a page of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_. The two boys were still chatting animatedly; at least, Al was. Scorpius was listening most attentively, occasionally nodding and murmuring. Her cousin seemed to be blabbing about Quidditch and the likes. _Boys_!

She was, frankly, annoyed with Al. He had been chattering for the most of the journey, like some hyper squirrel. She knew it was his way to try to control his nerves, but _really_, in front of Draco _bloody_ Malfoy's son?

Not that he was snobby; she hadn't heard him boast or sneer, a sure Malfoy identification sign, according to her father and Uncle Harry. He was, after all, still listening to Al long after she had decided to quit listening and read her Charms textbook, and she applauded him for that. She was certain that he must have had the patience of a saint.

"I'm going to go buy some sweets," that bother of Al announced. He cast a disapproving look at her, and then disappeared.

The two of them glanced at each other furtively. Rose was irked to realise that she was suddenly shy and wrinkled her nose. She, Rose Ixora Weasley, did not do _shy_. No, no, and no – not at all. She was confident, brave, loud, maybe even a tad arrogant Rose – she ran into things headfirst and thought later.

With that thought in her head, she went for the kill and broke the awkward silence – well, awkward for _her_, but Scorpius didn't seem to mind it too much. Nodding towards his owl, she said, "So, that's your owl?"

"Oh, I didn't introduce you?" Scorpius looked slightly surprised and stroked Hunter's feathered belly while he hooted and eyed her reproachfully, for about the fifth time. Rose was beginning to think that this owl was probably not a "people-person" (or in this case, "people-owl"?). "This's Hunter, my eagle owl – a _B. Bubo_, he is. Hunter, this is Rose Weasley – my new friend."

Rose grinned at the _friend_ part. "Hi," she smirked at the eagle owl. She grasped her cage and let out Aladdin. "This's Aladdin, Hunter, Scorpius. He's an Elf owl. Aladdin, Hunter and Scorpius Malfoy, _my_ new friend."

Sitting so close to him, she suddenly wanted to hug him. As Al had stated at Platform 9 and ¾, Rose had effectively noticed Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, but not in the way Ron approved of. At all. In fact, she was wondering how to convince her father to let her date _before_ she turned thirteen.

Rose shook her head a little at her naivety. Who could say that Scorpius would want to date, to snog a _Weasley_? He was a Malfoy, after all, even though he wasn't like the other ones. She decided to settle for asking for the same House as Scorpius, even if it meant she had to go to bloody Slytherin.

She had a good feeling about him; she _really_ wanted to know him better.

_Sorry, Dad. _

* * *

Al returned back to the compartment a few moments after Scorpius and Rose introduced their owls to each other, with three bags full of sweets. Scorpius started to take out a leather pouch in which Al could hear the gentle sound of tinkling gold, but he stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"_I'm_ treating today," he said.

Scorpius frowned, and flushed slightly for some reason Al couldn't comprehend. In truth, the blond boy was quite embarrassed at what his father would say if he found out his son was accepting treats from a "damned Potter" – not that he cared much. Father and he were on curt terms, and he did not see him fairly often, only at meals and such. Draco was a busy man, working at the Ministry in international wizarding relations, though Scorpius was not too sure.

"_Fine_."

Maybe it was the prospect of being finally able to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he had dreamed about being shipped off early ever since Megara had begun attending it when he was five or six, or the fear of being Sorted, but Scorpius felt rather... clingy today. He suddenly missed his parents, whom he had always taken for granted. He thought it was rather weird.

Al tossed a bag of sweets at him, and then looked down at his own. He tore open the Chocolate Frogs first, searching for Dumbledore's card. Dad had reminded him about his namesakes, and the boy couldn't help but wonder whether Severus... well, Al didn't know his surname – had a Chocolate Frog Card.

Unfortunately, he did not have Dumbledore, but he did get a good one, Rowena Ravenclaw. He studied her haughty, impassive, yet beautiful face, and wondered what the bloody hell would happen if he was Sorted into Ravenclaw. Not that he thought that he had the intelligence... but still. Or even worse, Slytherin! There was so much that could go wrong.

Rose had always found his tendency to worry and be pessimistic from annoying to absolutely hilarious, and she and James had delighted in teasing him about it. Al didn't really care. He knew that, in spite of their meanness at times, they would surely miss him, if he was gone. He sometimes really wanted to just murder them, but... this was going to sound cheesy – he thought they were all special in their own way. Yeah. It did sound cheesy – like something his _mum_ would say!

"Trade Agrippa with Dumbledore?" he asked Scorpius.

The Malfoy looked surprised. "He's not that powerful, though."

"Oh, but he's my namesake," Al told him. "Albus Dumbledore – I was named after him, and some bloke named Severus-"

"Severus _Snape_?"

"Yeah. How do you know about him?"

Scorpius shifted. "My grandfather told me a bit about him – he was a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix during both wars, and he died in the Battle of Hogwarts when the Dark Lord thought he was the master of the Elder Wand. They buried him in Godric's Hollow – my grandparents and my father were at the funeral, along with probably your family as well, I'm not too sure."

Al was a bit jealous that Scorpius knew more than he did about _his_ namesake, but he didn't give a sign about being irked. "Why Godric's Hollow?" he inquired. "My grandparents are buried there – Lily and James Potter."

The blond boy raised an eyebrow and ate a jellybean before answering. "Snape... He loved Lily Potter very much, Al. That's why he left the Death Eaters, secretly. He was part of the people who indirectly killed your grandparents."

Rose gave him a strange look. "Albus _Severus_ Potter," she rolled her eyes. "Snape is your bloody namesake... Uncle Harry talked about him loads, and you never listened? _I_ sure did. History is quite interesting."

"Not _History of Magic_," Scorpius shot. "My sister says it's really boring, taught by an old ghost."

"Yeah, Professor Binns – I've heard of him," Al nodded. "_Poor_ us."

"Do you guys know Selma Wattlebird?" asked Rose.

"No," said the boys in unison.

"She's the _best _magical historian," said Rose. "These last few years, she interrogated most of the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts and the Second Wizarding War. Mum and Dad are going to be in her new book," she added proudly.

"Oh!" said Al. "That crazy woman with the tangled hair and gigantic eyes? She came last year to our house."

Effectively, Wattlebird had, and had even taken a few photographs, only leaving when Harry had kindly reminded her that this was his house, thus his propriety, and he was equally the Head of the Aurors at the Ministry of Magic.

"I read an article about her in _The Quibbler_," said Rose. "Xeno Lovegood says she's Sybill Trewalney in disguise-"

"True enough," said Scorpius. "We haven't seen Trelawney since 2000."

"Well," said Rose, and she did not seem very happy to have been interrupted, "The book is getting published at Halloween. It's going to be called _The Dark Lord and the Boy who Lived: A Second Period of Tragedy." _

Al took that in, rolling his eyes at her love of books, and started on his Cauldron Cakes. Scorpius, however, was deep in thought as Rose talked on about the author's other books to come. He knew there were plenty of books on the subject – the fighters of the Light – but none about Death Eaters, specifically. He wasn't saying that the Dark side deserved exclusive biographies, but it was not well to pretend they hadn't existed. To start a war, you needed two sides – the Light and the Dark in this case – and both deserved recognition. The Death Eaters had been vile and cruel, but they had fought for something that they had believed in – and Scorpius thought that was important.

As the train halted with a whistle's screech, the three children gathered their things and pulled open the door, where they found themselves on Hogsmeade Station's platform. It was swarming with students, older ones looking down condescendingly at them, greeting their friends, and young ones such as them, looking frightened, apprehensive, and excited. A gruff, deep voice could be heard above the din.

"Firs' years! Firs' years here!"

Al looked up, and saw the beetle black eyes of Rubeus Hagrid grinning at him, amidst that tangle of black hair. The half-giant patted him on the back, making the short, skinny boy nearly top over. Hagrid greeted Rose next, with a "Hullo, Rosie!" and then his eyes slid over to Scorpius.

His expression reserved, under control (at least for Hagrid), he rumbled, "Well, well. Draco's son, I say?"

"Yes," Scorpius stared back at him with his pale eyes. "Scorpius Malfoy."

"Hagrid," he grunted. "Welcome, Malfoy."

Nodding towards the boats, he started up a conversation with Molly and her friend Kelly, and waved at them with a dustbin-lid-sized hand. Huffing, Rose climbed in and beckoned to the boys, ready to rant; only, she discovered that someone was already sitting inside.

She was a small little thing, with curly black hair, a pale face, and big black eyes that were currently teary, eyeing them apprehensively. She had a slight overbite, her chin quivering as she buried her face in her hands once more.

"Hello," Scorpius said quietly. "What's your name? I'm Scorpius, these are my friends, Albus and Rose."

"But you can call me Al," the black-haired boy offered, looking uncertain how to deal with the crying girl. Since Scorpius was clearly in his element, Al let him be. The blond boy patted her back and said, "You fine?"

She sniffled. "Sorry, I'm just a crybaby. I'm fine. Caroline Lee."

"What's wrong?" Rose blurted out.

"I miss my mum, that's all."

Directing her gaze at Scorpius, she reddened. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry," she said softly. "Some kid on the train told me – told me it was bad to consort – with – with – people like you."

"You mean, filthy Death Eater scum like me?" Scorpius laughed in a slightly bitter manner at her surprise of him using the derogatory term. "Don't worry, I don't mind – you get used to it, I assure you. Who was the kid?"

"Lawrence Fortescue, I think," Caroline dropped her gaze shamefully to the floor of the boat. "Or Mario – I'm not sure. They're identical. Darcy Thomas also told me the same thing, he said one of the Death Eaters mauled his mum."

"He was not a Death Eater," the boy's lips barely moved. His face was paler than usual. "He didn't have a Dark Mark. The Dark Lord liked using him, is all."

The other three, who saw that clearly, he was irked, did not press their points. Rose, however, was curious about something else, though it was rather related.

"Why do you call him the Dark Lord? Only his followers called him that."

He regarded her calmly. "My family calls him that way. I guess they're used to it." He scowled. "Can we talk about something else, though, please? I don't really fancy speaking about my family, mind you..."

"Sure."

They went on about Quidditch, and about their families, until they reached the castle. Scorpius learnt that Rose and Al had many, many cousins, and that Caroline was Muggle-born – not that he cared, anyways. He had always thought bloodline-related bigotry was stupid and so bloody _pointless_. Damn, it started _two_ wars.

A man with a lantern was waiting there, a man with a round face with a long scar running down his cheek like a snake. His hair was brown-blond, and his hands were calloused. He wore a pointed hat and scarlet robes, which looked rather odd on him.

"Hello!" he said, beaming at them. "Follow me inside – Professor Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmaster."

* * *

**... Cliffie! (For those who read the original... Same Sortings for the three *nods*) Next up is the Sorting, with the Welcoming Feast of course, and I might include more, but I'm not too sure yet. **

**So, how's everyone liking Scorpius, Rose, and Al? Caroline, Hagrid? **

**Please read and review, especially if you favourited/alerted!**


	4. The Sorting

The Sorting

Neville led them through the corridor, explaining the four Houses' attributes as they filed in silently. "Gryffindor is my old House," he nodded, limping slightly, "Those in my House are brave, daring, and _occasionally_ reckless." There, he smiled fondly. "Hufflepuff... They'll tell you they're duffers, but don't worry – my wife was one, and she didn't turn out too bad, my daughter Val as well! Ravenclaws are clever and especially witty. Slytherin houses the cunning, the ambitious, and the determined."

He continued, his brown eyes on the chandelier hanging overhead. Rose could see that they were quickly approaching double oak doors and felt a pang of excitement. She was finally at Hogwarts! Now, she could get James back, explore the grounds, visit the library... Her mind drifted until she heard the unmistakable sounds of sharp intakes of breath. Craning her neck, she found that Neville had pried open the doors, and they were walking into the Great Hall.

She could barely keep herself from bouncing. Shuddering slightly, she grinned at her cousins; Molly at Hufflepuff table, Dominique at Slytherin (who ignored her), and Victoire and James at Gryffindor. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, her curls quivering, she found herself face-to-face with Louis.

"Where were you?" he asked. "I was looking for you."

"Oh, I was with Al and Scorpius."

"_Malfoy_?" His blue eyes were wide. He yawned; Louis Fabian Weasley was always yawning, to her knowledge. The family had long since gotten used to it. "_Bloody_, Rose!"

"Shut it!" she snapped. "He's somewhere behind, and he's really nice!" Scowling, she added, "I bet you'll be Hufflepuff."

Louis shrugged, though he was starting to look a tiny bit worried. With a perverse satisfaction from that victory, Rose turned her attention back to Al and Scorpius. Al was staring at the crowds, more like gaping; what an idiot he was! Scorpius was frowning slightly and staring back at those who threw him dirty looks in a most calm manner.

"He's back!" someone shouted.

Rose frowned. She hadn't noticed Neville leaving, but now she saw him returning with the Sorting Hat. She smiled broadly as the hat opened his brim like a mouth and began to sing his yearly song:

_A long, long time ago, _

_Before, without a doubt, you were born; _

_Two wizards, two witches of the age, reunited_

_There was Godric Gryffindor, seducer extraordinaire _

_Running headfirst into duels, never having a thought beforehand _

_There was Rowena Ravenclaw, the haughty seamstress's daughter _

_Beautiful, but vain, and very, very proud; intelligence was her drive _

_There was Helga Hufflepuff, maidservant in an inn _

_Poor but compassionate, she was the most loyal of them all _

_And last, but not least, there was Salazar Slytherin, second son of a duke _

_Power-hungry, ruthless, but determined and wily; his beliefs were his fall _

_They gave their surnames to Houses, four if I count well; _

_They gave their strongest traits as attributes _

_Attributes you will with no doubt heed _

_So join me, young friend- _

_Let us Sort without further delay! _

Neville took a scroll of parchment paper from his pocket, smiled at the worried-looking first years, and began calling out names.

"Bagman, Luke!"

A green-faced blond boy with big blue eyes looked confused, as Neville directed him to the stool with a point-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Beetle, Mark!"

A tall boy with greenish spikes in his ordinarily brown hair strutted to the Sorting Hat, throwing various other people contemptuous looks-

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Belby, Taurus!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Blishwick, Mimosa!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Burke, Helena!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Corner, Ryan!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Corner, Sophia!"

His equally haughty-looking twin sister, it seemed-

"RAVENCLAW!"

Rose thought she heard Sophia sigh in relief, but the sound was then drowned by the thunderous applause from the Ravenclaw table.

"Davies, Simon!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Derby, Evan!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Finch-Fletchey, Richard!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Patricia!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Rose wondered why the sandy-haired girl she had seen at the Leaky Cauldron during the summer seemed slightly disappointed as she skipped over to the Gryffindor table, where James and his band of loser friends clapped her on the back and wolf-whistled.

"Flint, Dorea!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Fortescue, Lawrence!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Fortescue, Mario!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The twins glanced at each other longingly as they made their way to their separate House tables.

"Gamp, Algernon!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Hoffman, Tara!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

With surprise, Rose watched Sophia Corner grin at Tara as she patted the seat beside her.

"Huang, Melanie!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Jordan, Amy!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Jordan, Kayla!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The third set of twins, Rose thought. There sure were many twins this year. Like the Fortescue brothers, the girls were nearly identical, only one had pigtails and the other's hair was loose, curly, and bushy. They high-fived each other as they sat down.

"Lam, Cindy!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Lee, Caroline!"

Rose held her breath. She wondered where Caroline would end up – Hufflepuff, perhaps? She seemed like the type.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Well, there were always surprises in life, Rose thought.

"Macmillan, Skylar!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath as Scorpius made his way, slowly, to the stool on which the Sorting Hat rested upon. The boy was nervous, yet so excited that he could not find words to describe it, later; he grabbed it with a slightly shaky hand and put it onto his blond head.

The inside of the hat was dark as he pulled it over his grey eyes. He blinked, once or twice; and then he heard a tiny voice, like a bee's buzzing. "Ah, a Malfoy." There was a short pause as Scorpius drew in a breath. "Yes. You are much harder to Sort than your grandfather, and even your father." The boy knew that it was speaking of his Malfoy grandfather. "Your mind works in a similar way than your aunt Daphne's, really – innocent, yet so brave and wise. Mmm-hmm. I suggested Ravenclaw for her, you know; she begged for Slytherin. Later, I did realise she made a good Slytherin. Fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, even."

"_Don't_ put me in Slytherin," Scorpius said flatly.

"Agreed," the Hat replied quietly. "You don't really have the ruthless drive that the members of Salazar's House possess... You have not a bad mind, really. A desperate thirst to prove yourself away from your family... I like that, lad. You're peaceful, you don't like fighting, but you'll do it when you're provoked. Hmm. Nay, you are too – ah – hard for Hufflepuff. I'd say Gryffindor. Yes, your daring, nerve, and chivalry _do_ tend to stick out."

"Let it be GRYFFINDOR!"

The Great Hall seemed to be shell-shocked for a sheer moment, as Scorpius looked at the floor and walked quickly to the Gryffindor table; Rose saw Victoire get up, her prefect badge gleaming on her chest, and begin cheering. Wolf-whistling, she grinned broadly, shook Scorpius's hand. "Welcome to Gryffindor!" she shouted above the raucous applause that had erupted after many other lions had begun following her lead, clapping so loudly the Slytherins' indignant whispers were almost drowned. Almost.

"Wait! Draco Malfoy's son, in bloody _Gryffindor_?"

"A Malfoy? A bloody _Malfoy_ in Gryffindor? You _can't_ be serious, dratted hat!"

"Re-Sorting! **Re-Sorting**! Malfoy belongs with _us_!"

"Great, now his father can't sponsor our Quidditch team..."

"Do you think he'd sponsor _Gryffindor_, you prat?"

Scorpius winced. He suddenly began dreading Christmas. His insides twisted, wondered whether his parents would throw him out of the house; where would he go? He was quite certain his sister wouldn't accommodate him in her flat, and his grandfather had no power whatsoever over Father. Maybe Aunt Daphne and Uncle Theodore would take him in, in their villa in France? Alcmene and he had always gotten along well...

He turned his head, his attention focusing on the Sorting. Unknown to him, Al and Rose were watching him carefully, still in line. Al promised himself he would remain friends with Scorpius, no matter what; the poor bloke needed friends. Bonus, Scorpius Malfoy was _nice_. He felt slightly sick as he continued to wait for his turn in the Sorting.

"Nott, Alcmene!"

Al guessed that the slight girl with chocolate brown hair and big brown eyes – actually, he found her quite good-looking – was Scorpius's cousin-

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Peakes, Pierce!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Potter, Albus!"

Breathe, idiot, he told himself sternly as he stumbled, blindly, to the stool. Feeling a firm hand on his scrawny shoulders, he found himself staring at Neville, who smiled reassuringly, maybe a tad sympathetically. Al flushed. He bet that hadn't happened at James's Sorting, and wouldn't happen at Rose's.

His head of aggressively messy black hair disappeared along with most of his face – including those bright green eyes inherited from Gran Potter – as Al saw the inside of the hat. He inhaled again, and then told the Hat, "I'm ready. Sort me, now."

The Hat was highly amused; or, it sounded so to Al. "Very well. A Potter, I see. Why, I Sorted your brother last year."

"James Potter," Al said automatically. It was a reflex.

"Ah," it ignored his comment. "You have a sharp, sarcastic mind... Ravenclaw would be good for you, but I see you do not enjoy learning so... Hmm. You are also self-preserved, by some degree; you think before acting, I see. But you possess a remarkable amount of courage and daring, still. What say you, Albus Severus?"

"Al," he corrected. "I think Gryffindor."

"Good luck in GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindors' reaction was simultaneous; all stood up, clapping wildly. Al saw a blur of faces, as his housemates began shaking hands with him enthusiastically – he lost track of their names as soon as they said them; there were too many, really. All he could make out was the constant refrain, "We got Potter!"

A tall boy made his way through the crowd of Gryffindors, nimbly; he grinned at Al, and embraced him with a tight hug. Messing up his hair (something that James most certainly knew his brother did not like, but did anyways), James said, "Congratulations, Al! Never thought you would have made Gryffindor, but congrats, anyways!"

"Yeah," Al muttered darkly, "You hoped that I would have been Slytherin, eh?"

His eyes travelled to Scorpius, and they both nodded in mutual understanding. Moving a wee bit to the left, the blond boy gestured to the free space on the bench. Al obeyed, his feet hanging a few inches from the ground as he stared at the wood table.

"Good making Gryffindor, Al," Scorpius said with a small smile.

"Thanks." The boy paused. "Will your parents be mad?"

Scorpius laughed. "_Of course_ they'll be angry, I'm sure. I'm only worried that they'll send a Howler or the like; I don't care about pleasing my parents, at all. They'll have to be content with their imperfect son, if they want an heir, however stupid and unfit, to their precious Malfoy line."

Al, not sure what to reply to that, went back to giving a smirk to Rose, while Scorpius stared off into the distance.

Rose was positively quivering with impatience, right now; her two friends had been Sorted, all in Gryffindor, and her sort-of friend Caroline as well. Biting her lip, she set for staring at Neville with rapt attention, her blue eyes wide.

"Rosier, Alexandra!"

Neville had only called the next name when the applause had died down, slightly, to a controllable level, with the approval of the Headmistress-

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Smith, Jerome!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Thames, Priscilla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Thomas, Darcy!"

Rose had seen the dark-skinned boy in Diagon Alley, a few weeks ago; he had sold Potions ingredients to her in his mother's apothecary-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Verde, Camilio!"

A second's hesitation-

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Walter, William!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Weasley, Louis!"

Rose nudged him as he stepped forward, lips pressed tightly together. Neville caught his eye, nodded; he gave a thumbs-up-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Weasley, Rose!"

Rose half-skipped, half-ran as she approached the wooden stool. Jamming the hat onto her head eagerly, she ignored the snickers and laughs from all four House tables as the older students viewed this bizarrely hyper child.

"Ah, excited, I see," said the Sorting Hat, sounding weary. "Clever mind, like your mum, but you do have Weasley blood. You remind me of another girl that came through beloved Hogwarts, not so long ago. I put her in Ravenclaw. I wonder if taming would work by me Sorting you there?"

"I want to be a Gryffindor," snapped Rose. She was conscious of her impoliteness and added, "Sir, _please_."

"OK, let us not be hasty, then. Hufflepuff is definitely out; Slytherin as well with your prejudices of Slytherins. Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Yes, I rather think Gryffindor. Dumbledore did tell Harry Potter I would take choices into matter, and I wouldn't want to contradict him."

"Yes, you wouldn't."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Rose thought she heard the hat sigh as she pulled it off her head; she however held no regard as she grinned at the clapping Gryffindors, squeezing in between Al and an older Gryffindor. James came over to congratulate her, yelling at a long-haired bloke at the Hufflepuff table, "You owe me twelve Galleons, Rick!"

"Damn!" the Hufflepuff yelled back, scowling. "Give me time, I'll have to borrow it off from Val!" He nudged the blond girl beside him, whispered something into her ear as she frowned at him and mouthed something that seemed like a swear.

"Hello," Rose turned her head, shock of brown curls and all, to the boys. "Congrats, Al, Scorpius."

"Thanks," Scorpius smiled at her. "Congratulations, yourself, Rose."

"Aye," Al added, grinning. He looked towards the front. "Only a few left."

In fact, this year's Sorting was concluded by a "Ye, Jules!", who went to Hufflepuff, and a "Zabini, Natasha!", who went to Slytherin. After the two had left to sit at their respective House tables, Neville carried both the stool and the Sorting Hat away, his scroll of parchment that was the class list exploding into dust.

At the High Table, an elderly witch with stern features and grey hair in a bun stood up, surveying them with her spectacled beady eyes. A smile formed on her thin lips as she caught hold of several of the first years shrinking away from her slightly. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, first years," she intoned in a voice that seemed to enrapture even the bored-looking seventh year Slytherins. "For those who do not know, I am your Headmistress – Professor McGonagall. There are a few announcements I want to make, more notably on Mr Filch's newly expanded list of forbidden objects and substances," she had a dry smile at that, "but as many of you, particularly Mr James Potter at the Gryffindor table, seem to wish that I would be Silenced, and quickly, so we shall first eat."

Al smirked when he saw James redden and look down at his empty plate.

Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be so unlike home, after all.

* * *

**Hey, thanks for the reviews/alerts/favourites, by the way! :) **

**So, the trio is now Sorted - next chapter is the Feast and a few strange happenings before they are finally off to bed. There will also be a revelation about Scorpius's family - well, a small one. **

**Ah, and for the shifts in POVs - they will mostly alternate between the trio, though like in the beginning, can occasionnally change. The Crossover part will be more visible after a few more chapters, I hope. **

**End of rant - please read and review, especially if you favourited/alerted!**


	5. The Welcoming Feast

The Welcoming Feast and Strange Happenings

Rose practically drooled when she caught sight of the food appearing in front of her. Gradually loudening conversations could be heard as they dug into the feast, hundreds of students squished against each other, the smell of a well-cooked meal floating into everyone's nostrils.

There were clinks as the utensils touched the plates, the famished students piling as much food as they could fit onto their dishes. The first year Gryffindors glanced at each other, not shyly; more apprehensively, wondering how they would ever get along like the older students seemed to be.

Patricia Finnigan broke the silence almost at once, grinning at her classmates broadly. "Hi!" she said brightly. "Patricia Finnigan, what're your names? I hadn't caught all of them at the Sorting, it was really very long, you know..."

"Wonder why I caught all of them..." Al muttered. "Albus Potter; call me Al. We've met before."

"His dad is _really_ Harry Potter?" Luke Bagman asked.

"Duh," Darcy Thomas rolled his eyes. "Who'd you _think_ his dad is?"

Luke reddened. "Dunno. I'm Luke Bagman, by the way."

"Cool," Patricia turned to Darcy. "I do know you."

"Yeah, we _do_ get together each Christmas," Darcy sighed. "It'd be hard to not know my name."

"Caroline Lee," Caroline said, her eyes not quite meeting anyone's.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Rose thought that Patricia would say something, maybe rude, and prepared to defend him if necessary, but the sandy-haired girl smiled and nodded to him like she had done to everyone else. "I met your sister once, Scorp – I can call you Scorp, right? She came to our tavern at Christmas, some of the guests really liked her..."

"Rose Weasley."

"I've seen you, too," Patricia frowned.

"Leaky Cauldron," she supplied. "We were buying school supplies."

"Louis Weasley."

"Hey, my sister was friends with yours! Moira left school last year, though," the girl remarked. "She's called Victoire, right?"

"Yeah," Louis nodded, "I have two sisters, though – Dom is Slytherin."

"Amy Jordan," said Amy while her twin said _her_ name. "Kayla Jordan."

"Pleased to meet y'all," Patricia said, but before she could get anything else in, Darcy cleverly interrupted.

"Anyone fancies Quidditch, here?"

"Me!" Al exclaimed, jumping at the chance. "Holyhead Harpies, you?"

"Puddlemere United for sure," Kayla said – she was the one with the loose hair, Rose was sure. "Right, Amy?"

"Definitely." Amy paused. "I would have brought my socks if we could have tried out for the House team. Luck, you know."

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. "Tutshill Tornadoes are better," he remarked. "Second in the league."

"Puddlemere is first," Kayla pointed out. "Why'd you support the Tornadoes, anyways?"

He shrugged. "My sister does, it's a Ravenclaw thing, and you have to admit that they _are_ good."

"Mmm," Amy muttered. She didn't want to admit that what the boy said made sense. "What about the Chudley Cannons-"

"My uncle Ron supports them," Al said. "Rose's mum, my aunt Hermione, thinks he's nuts for that."

The twins snorted in unison. "She's pretty darn right, your aunt."

"You have a subscription to _Glamour Witch_?" Patricia asked Rose, leaning across the table. It was clear that she had no interest whatsoever in the twins and the boys' discussion – Rose felt the same. She had always thought that Quidditch fans were mindless nuts – though a few exceptions could be made to her new friends. They seemed smarter than most of her male cousins, the cousins she had grown up playing with. There were a few girl fans in her family, such as Lily, Victoire, and Molly – Victoire and Dominique played Chaser for their respective House teams – but they were fine as well, except Dominique, who was extremely snotty, in Rose's opinion.

"No, I don't," she replied while the Irish girl seemed shocked. "I did see the magazine in Flourish and Blotts, though," she added, hoping that Patricia would continue. Caroline looked bored from the Quidditch conversation – Rose did not think that she had understood the rules fully when the boys had discussed it in the boats – and quite eager to pursue it in another subject.

"It's one of the best!" Patricia's cheeks flushed excitedly as she caught two older Quidditch players staring at her from the other end of the table. Rose sighed internally; however, she had to admit that Patricia was rather entertaining. "I'll show you in the dorm..."

She chattered on and on, Rose and Caroline glancing at each other in boredom. Finally, Rose got tired of Patricia's babbles and began commenting on the food – it was a trick she had learnt from her mum and Aunt Gin, when their husbands would bore them with their men-talk, changing the subject.

Patricia's brown eyes widened, but she nodded and toyed with her stylish earrings, piling yet another pumpkin pasty onto her plate.

The Headmistress stood up again a short while later, beginning without a pause her yearly speech. Rose's mind drifted; she thought that listening to the elderly witch was rather boring. She preferred learning the rules from others than wasting such a time to daydream.

After what seemed to be an eternity, McGonagall bid them goodnight, telling the prefects and Head Students to bring the first years to their common rooms. Victoire called the firsties at the Gryffindor table, accompanied by a fellow seventh year by the name of Jared Delaney.

Rose smiled as the ten of them lined up, following Victoire and Jared like baby ducks following their mother. She had dreamed of seeing the Gryffindor common room, where so much had happened in the past, for years.

Her wish was finally being executed, and she was glad.

* * *

Victoire and Jared waited for the first years to gather around the Fat Lady's portrait – consisting of a sleeping, extremely fat woman painted on an only slightly cracked canvas – before the girl cleared her throat as to attract their attention, beginning her introductory speech. She had done this for two years now, and she was still slightly nervous and even a little proud. She still remembered when Kenneth Thames had showed them how to enter the Gryffindor common room, six years earlier.

Al, unnoticed by any of his peers or the seventh year prefects, stood a little farther off, having a rather pleasant conversation with a recently put up portrait, named the Half-Transfigured Duck Man. The Duck Man did sport, in fact, a rather unsightly orange-yellow beak, and a quacking voice.

"Fat Lady!" Victoire said, snapping her fingers. "Wake up; I have first years with me, and they're tired and ready to go to bed!"

A beady blue eye opened, and then another as the Fat Lady woke up. She scowled, yawning unattractively, and smoothed her pink silk dress before addressing herself to Victoire in a grumble. "I can't have any sleep, girl? I'm _dead_, for Godric's sake! And you still haven't spoken the password!"

"This, here," Jared turned to the first years before his classmate could annoy the Fat Lady further, "is the charming Fat Lady, in case you hadn't figured it out. She requests a password for you to gain access to Gryffindor Tower. The password, for now, is _wolfsbane_."

At his last word, the Fat Lady scowled again, and she swung, to reveal a portrait hole. The first year Gryffindors climbed in, one at the time, and then the prefects followed. None of them paid Al any second thought until he had returned, and Al himself only noticed when the portrait closed, the Fat Lady slumbering once again.

"What's the password?" he asked the Duck Man, aggravated. He had heard tales of Neville's first year, and his poor surrogate uncle had once stayed in the cold, stone corridor for hours because he hadn't known the password. "What's the password, Duck Man?"

The man shook his head, and fingered the exit of his portrait. Looking at the boy's green eyes, he had a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I have no idea," he quacked, raising a feathered hand in greeting as he disappeared, leaving a trail of muddy footprints.

"Oh, damn!" Al shouted at the portrait. "What the bloody hell was that?"

The air in front of him shimmered, once or twice; a tiny man floating in mid-air with a spotted orange bow-tie appeared, cackling at him, trying to hit Al with a handful of sticks that he had gotten Merlin-knows-where. When he failed, he cupped up his hands and yelled, "Ickle firstie! There's an ickle firstie lurking in the corridor!"

Swooping (Al ducked), he cackled once more and disappeared.

Before Al could even sigh in relief, he heard a soft, satisfied meow. His body rigid, his heart hammering against his ribcage, Al tried to make himself smaller than he was, although he knew Mrs Norris would be bound to sniff him out, anyways. A raspy cackle followed the meow, and the two staff that Al dreaded truly from tales stood in front of him.

For a tiny second, Al could have swore that he had seen a flicker of something like victory in Filch's brown eyes. Forcing himself to look at the caretaker full in the face, he could only feel disgust as his bright green eyes took in the toothless leer, the extremely oily hair, and the cracked, wrinkled skin.

"Ooh, lurking out of curfew, are we?" Filch smiled. "Come with me, boy. _Someone's _been bad."

His stomach sinking, Al could only bite his lip as he followed Filch reproachfully into his mothball-smelling office. Mrs Norris purred, stretching her skinny legs as she bent down and began drinking thirstily from her water dish. The first year sat on the chair, waiting for the Squib to return from his quarters. He couldn't escape, as Filch had locked the door, and his wand had been confiscated.

The door separating Filch's quarters and his stuffy office slid open. His greasy white hair hung from his face as he advanced on Al, handcuffs in his dry hands. The boy swallowed; even if he wasn't a Ravenclaw, he could definitely predict what Filch would do next. Had the man gone to the Dark side?

Just when his wrists would have been imprisoned in the rusty metal, Al heard a small whooshing noise, like an animal moving in bushes. He was puzzled; Mrs Norris was munching at her kibble now. However, the movement was so swift that Al may have imagined it.

The door burst open in the next second; Neville stood in the doorway, white-faced. His moody brown eyes, now angry, looked from the wary-looking Al to the stunned Filch, who had dropped the handcuffs in surprise. The Head of Gryffindor made a noise that may have been an attempt to speak in his surprise. He tried again; his voice was hard, and yet weary. It was the voice of an Auror on the job, even though Neville hadn't been working for the Ministry for years.

"What are you doing, Argus?"

"Er – I'm inflicting discipline, Professor," Filch said with a nervous undertone.

"I don't know what you were doing," Neville said slowly, deathly calm, "but you have no business inflicting bodily harm on one of my students. Minerva will certainly hear of this, Argus; Albus, you come with me. I'm bringing you to the Gryffindor common room."

"What – about the disciplinay action?" the Squib pointed an accusatory finger at Al. "I found him wandering after curfew!"

"He _will_ have detention," the Professor replied, "but with me, in the greenhouses. I'm not too sure I can trust you anymore, really." He gripped Al's skinny arm, his grip almost pincer-like in his haste to get his friends' son out of this enemy territory (he couldn't help but think in Auror terms, in this situation).

Once Neville was sure that they were out of earshot, he asked, "Are you alright, Al? What was Filch doing to you?"

"I'm fine," he quickly explained. "How did you know?"

"I usually patrol the corridors during the first night," Neville said quietly, his gaze on Al strengthening. "I heard you yelling at the portrait, Peeves, and finally, Filch and Mrs Norris coming to get you. Sometimes, this habit comes in handy."

"It does," Al agreed with a nod. "Are you going to tell Dad 'bout this, Neville?"

They had arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait. Neville's eyes were not quite all there, in the dark corridor, but perhaps, somewhere far away. He blinked, having a grim smile, "Yes, I will, Albus. It's my duty to protect students in my House, after all; and Filch's obsession with 'disciplining' you may be more than his usual, crazed self."

"You mean, it might require an Auror investigation?"

Neville patted Al's shoulder in a fatherly sort of way, exactly like Harry would have done. "You're smart," he remarked. "Old habits die hard, Al, and I won't let this slide away... Especially since you're Harry's kid – loads of people out there hate you and your family. I'll be dropping a line sooner or later, mark my word."

Pulling his sleeve, he checked his watch. Smiling gently, he said, "It's getting pretty late; Filch was right about something, at least. The password's _wolfsbane_ – clap your hands to wake up the Fat Lady. Goodnight, Albus Severus."

"Goodnight, Neville."

* * *

Scorpius was lounging near the fireplace, speaking with Nearly Headless Nick, when Al finally traipsed inside. The blond boy gave no sign of having seen him; he watched the red flames crackle once more before turning, looking over the red velvet of the armchair.

"Where were you, Al?"

"Long story," groaned Al, collapsing in an armchair beside his friend. "It's late, isn't it? Everyone's saying that."

"Close to midnight, in fact, lad," Nearly Headless Nick said solemnly, frowning in a stern way. Flexing his transparent fingers, he nodded, only to have his head give the impression of tipping over – much like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, actually. "Very late."

"It's only ten-thirty," Scorpius supplied, ignoring the ghost.

Al sighed, perhaps in relief; Scorpius was not sure.

"Goodbye, Nick," Scorpius waved. "I'm going to show Al the dormitory; we're tired. We've had a long day, you know."

Nearly Headless Nick glanced at him stiffly and floated through a nearby wall.

Luke was reading a comic book when they came in; Louis's curtains were already closed as they heard soft snores from his four-poster. The long-haired boy had declared that he always went to bed early, because he needed his supposed beauty sleep; Scorpius thought that he was a most peculiar fellow. Darcy was reading, also; he held the rare, leather-bound edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ in his dark hands. Looking up with slight apprehension when they approached, he said, "Al, what were you doing?"

Al didn't seem to want to tell anyone but Scorpius; he shrugged, waving a hand dismissively, which of course only made Darcy more curious. "Nothing. Just got in a bout of trouble; Neville found me and brought me back to Gryffindor Tower."

Scorpius climbed into his four-poster and yawned, closing the curtains for a short while to change into his pyjamas. He parted them again to listen at Darcy, Al, and occasionally Luke's conversation; the lights eventually closed. Snores could be heard from all around the room; all were asleep but for two.

"Malfoy?"

Darcy's voice came, hard and unfriendly, from a few beds away. The warmth provided by the fire in the centre of the room seemed to have extinguished slightly, replaced in part by an icy tension between Darcy and Scorpius.

"What do you want?"

The other paused for a moment, thinking about a good response to that. He said, "I loathe your people for what they did to Mum."

"My family didn't maul your mum; Greyback did."

"He was in league with the Death Eaters."

"He wasn't one, officially."

"How do you know all of this?"

If Darcy could have seen better in the darkness, he would have seen the pinkish tinge appearing onto Scorpius's face as he contemplated what to say next. The blond boy closed his eyes while he answered, in barely a whisper, "My grandfather was mauled by Greyback in the rebellion."

"Oh," was all Darcy could say. He sympathized. It wasn't easy to have a member of your family afflicted with lycanthropy; he and Louis had determined that much before the Weasley had gone to bed. There was always a danger that they would slip up, with animal blood in their veins. "I'm sorry, Scorpius. I didn't know."

Scorpius was surprised that Darcy had called him by his first name, and not his surname. "It's fine, Darcy." He hesitated. "I don't think many would know, except the older students, and I'd like to keep it that way. He's... Granddad wouldn't want anyone else except our closest friends to know."

Darcy could understand why Scorpius wanted to keep it secret – sometimes he wished that he wasn't deemed "wolf spawn", wherever he went, especially in the magical community. It was good that Diagon Alley had welcomed him and his family; his mother would be safe (mostly) from prejudice there, getting to chat with others from their world daily. They had found acceptance, there. Nodding, he had a small smile. "Don't worry, the secret's safe with me – my brother Jed was the same." He yawned. "Goodnight, Scorp."

"Goodnight, Darce."

* * *

**And that's the last chapter for the first day *sighs in relief* **

**Next up we have more with Filch... a glimpse of our villain... and a former Death Eater. After that it'll be a few scattered events of the next week... and then we'll have dear Harry and his Aurors. **

**Please read and review! :) **


	6. The Servants' News

The Servants' News

The two men quarrelled quietly as they walked on the stone passage, lit by only torches of regular and eerie, greenish fire. Water dripped from over their heads; distant howls and barks could be heard from overhead.

Their eyes, a pale blue that was almost grey and a muddy brown, posed on their final destination; a platform made of reddish rock, where an onyx throne, shining with the reflection of a three-headed dog, stood. There were gold carvings on it, of gory battle scenes, and most dramatic deaths. Statues of women and men that the servants knew, somehow, were depictions of goddesses and gods, seemingly stared at them with blank, unknowing eyes.

Behind the throne and the statues, already so queer themselves, stood the men's mistress, staring at her reflection in a nearby underground pool. The men did not even so glance at it; they preferred their mistress's face hooded, to be frank – not that she wasn't good-looking, far from it; her eyes alone had an uncommon charisma, and her voice wielded more talent than it seemed. No, they were scared; scared that they would be punished most severely for it – she was an unstable woman who could be even deemed mad.

Once arrived, they kneeled, their eyes on the floor. The first man swallowed audibly; the second contented himself with holding his breath slightly.

"Where is the boy?"

The cold, yet sweet voice sounded. There was a tiny movement; her long-lashed dark eyes posed on her servants, especially on the brown-eyed, swallowing man. Twirling a lock of her hair, she curled her lip as sweat broke onto the man's forehead; she smiled, like a she-wolf viewing her prey.

"He escaped, my Lady," mumbled Argus Filch. "Longbottom was in the corridor, patrolling at the time. He has suspicions."

"Naturally," she yawned. "Who would not, Filch? He was formerly an Auror; he fought against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters; you would have given too much away; was he making much noise, Yaxley?"

Yaxley's heart sank slightly. He had worked for a mad master before, and so he knew what to expect; the messenger always had the worst. He had been blasted several times for delivering messages, as his friend Dolohov had; two Death Eaters, newly recruited after the beginning of the second war, Hyde and Cameron, had even been killed in the Dark Lord's mad fury. However, Filch seemed to be fine; he was the first, and so the first to get punished if news got bad, he reasoned.

"He was cackling excitedly," Yaxley answered uncertainly. "He also took much time – his handcuffs were resting in his quarters – the boy was alone for a short while – many factors, my Lady."

"Your organisation skills are _horrible_," was the reply. "I should not have trusted you, Yaxley, Filch. Do you know how incompetent you two are?" She sneered; they saw her face for another second before she turned and stared at herself once more with a curl of her lip. "I should have sent Dolores – at least she can incapacitate children competently."

"She's morbidly obese," muttered Yaxley.

"Do you know what failure calls for?" she said softly, her voice sweet and deadly. "Punishment. Get up and face it like a man, Filch."

Argus Filch had no choice; with a tremble, he stood up, his hands shaking, his face white. Yaxley kept his head bowed; he had seen a fair share of comrades being tortured; he did not feel compassion anymore, he relished in others' pain; he just hoped he did not have to suffer a similar fate.

Then came the ever popular "_Crucio_!"

The poor, defenceless Squib writhed on the floor, screaming. She kept her wand pointed at her servant, a smile on her cruel face; Filch's screams echoed in the cave as Yaxley's forehead sweated. After a few minutes, she let go; Filch was on the floor, breathing in pants, like a small animal in distress.

"Have you learnt your lesson, Filch?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Yes, _my Lady_!"

Another round of the Cruciatus that would have made any sane person sick-

"Please! Mercy! _Mercy_! Yes, my Lady!"

The Dark Lady turned from the man, pale and shaking hard, to the blunt-faced man beside him. "And what do you have to report, Yaxley, beside news of the failure at capturing the boy? Do you have anything to report on your children?"

"Yes, my Lady," Yaxley bowed. "My youngest daughter, Mathilda, has been adopted by the Muggle couple I've spoken of. My other daughter, Colleen, is still in the care of the state, from what I've heard most recently – she will be ten soon. My son-"

"Your daughters will be glad to join with us, to escape the morbid life among Muggles, and discover magic," she interrupted. "I am however concerned about your son, Yaxley. You do know that he will never join our cause, do you?"

"Pardon, my Lady?"

"I have heard that he is ashamed of his ancestry; ashamed of what his father and his Death Eaters had done, and Lord Voldemort also," she laughed. "Really, Yaxley, what were you thinking? Did you even think of her mother's blood traitor status, before you conceived your first child?"

"I had thought," Yaxley said cautiously, "that you did not care for blood's purity, only talent and usefulness, my Lady?"

"Are you trying to politely contradict me, Yaxley?"

"No, my Lady!"

"Your son's mother, she must have told him something, man, because he's ashamed. How old is he, again?"

"He is nine years old, my Lady. He will attend Hogwarts in two years."

"I _can_ count, you idiotic servant," she sneered. "Very well; you'll continue watching him, and your daughters."

Yaxley nodded and fumbled with his robes, looking at the floor still. "Are you... Are you ready for the kidnapping, my Lady?"

He was not too sure if he was allowed a question. However, she did not get angry, as the Dark Lord would have done, and so he was relieved. He waited for her reply.

"Which one, Yaxley?"

"Of him."

"Not yet, I'm not. I think I'll go get her first – it'll be funny to see him run the school..." She snickered. "The bumbling idiot, like his parents before him... A pity, really." Her dark eyes posed on Filch. "Yaxley, leave me now; bring Filch back to the school, check that the curse's still working – make him write down the incantation of _Protego reverso_ onto a sheet, and let him leave it in that pig's quarters. Hurry – Dolores will come to see me soon – she has news of her spying to report."

Yaxley bowed. "Yes, my Lady."

* * *

**Hope this wasn't too confusing :P **

**So we have our villain. A Dark witch. Any guesses at her identity? **

**Next up is a few jumbled snapshots of the first week at Hogwarts - of Scorpius, Al, and Rose, of course. After that, it'll be a meeting with the Aurors. And then... the drama officially begins as _someone_ is kidnapped. **

**By the way, thanks for the reviews and the like! :) **

**To Anonymous: Nico, unfortunately, will appear a bit later; close to Christmas, I'd say. **


	7. A Well Filled Week

A Well-Filled Week

"Are you _hallucinating_?"

Al glared at her and glanced at the windows, whose curtains were parted. Outside it was dark; the clock said midnight. The three of them were sitting near the crackling fire, in their slippers and nightwear, while Al told Rose and Scorpius about what had happened in the Headmistress's office.

"No, I'm not," he said hotly. "You ask-"

"There's no one to ask," Rose said smugly.

"So, you're saying," Scorpius tried to go through what the shorter boy had told them, "you're saying that Slughorn was _murdered_?"

Al scowled. He was aware of how mad that sounded; Rose's accusation even made sense in that regard. A little while after he had sneaked out of McGonagall's study, he had gone back to his dormitory, trying to process what had just happened. The next day, the Headmistress had announced that Slughorn had died – but she had lied, saying that her colleague had died peacefully in his sleep.

It was a _lie _– Al had _watched_ Slughorn die.

"Prince made it sound like it," Al shrugged. "She said it was a popular spell, Dark magic, used in the 2006 rebellion by the escaped Death Eaters. I heard her through the cupboard I was hiding in. Snape, I was talking to his portrait, right, and he left his frame before I had even exited, myself. There's something bizarre going on."

"Then why," Rose snapped, "did Slughorn use it on himself?"

"No, but it makes sense!" he insisted. He slipped off the armchair and faced them: Scorpius, watching him with a puzzled look on his pale face, and Rose, determined to find a loophole in his sayings. Al was quite sure that she would have believed him, should he have been anyone else. Sure, he had more imagination than most people he knew, but he wasn't mad, for goodness's sake!

"Look," he spread out his hands. "Magic used by escaped convicts resurfaces, kills off Professor Slughorn – a Slytherin many on the other side hated, thinking of him as a bloody traitor! Filch tries to grab me with handcuffs, and Neville thinks we have to get Aurors to investigate! Even Severus Snape, Merlin's pants, is worried!"

"Al, Al, Al," Rose shook her head. "Mate, there are plenty of possibilities-"

"Like, Filch was always mental," Scorpius cut in.

"And Neville, Neville's paranoid," she added.

"You're just not believing me, because you clearly have something against me, Rose," Al snapped.

She shrugged. "Maybe I am. I'd believe you if I'd seen it with my own eyes. If something else like this happens, maybe I'll do something."

"Something," Al snorted. "That's a start."

* * *

_Dear Mum, Dad, and Hugo, _

_Ahh. Finally, the weekend. This first week's been quite long. _

_I've been Sorted in Gryffindor – so did Al, if you've heard. I spoke to Scorpius Malfoy on the train, and we're friends now. He's in Gryffindor too – I wonder how his family will react? He's quite the silent fellow, but he's nice. I'd like to remind you, Dad, that judging people by their families is not very good, because that's sort of what Death Eaters did, y'know? _

_(Oh, and Dad, please don't give yourself a heart attack on that, it would be sad.)_

_My roommates are quite friendly also. There's only one Muggle-born: Caroline Lee. Al, Scorpius, and I sort of adopted her, and we're teaching her the wizarding ways. Well, the boys aren't doing much except explaining Quidditch and the like to her, but Patricia Finnigan and I help her a bit with other more useful things. The other two girls in my dormitory are the Jordan twins: they're Quidditch nuts and get on with Darcy Thomas and Louis real well. _

_I'm glad I read some of the textbooks – well, most of them – before going to Hogwarts, because or else I would've been quite lost in my classes. Some of them, like Charms, are fun. I don't like the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, she's annoying, and she insulted some of us – her name's Professor Eclipse, and I think she was Slytherin. The class is fine, though. Herbology is pretty boring, History of Magic is an insult to my intelligence, frankly, and Transfiguration is challenging but Professor Despard teaches it well. I don't think Neville was too nice to Scorpius – he wasn't downright rude, but not warm either. Maybe I'll ask him to treat Scorpius better. Oh, and there's also __too much homework__. _

_I did visit Hagrid, mind you – James was there. When we left for Gryffindor Tower, he pulled me aside and told me that I didn't quite have 'it' in me. (I'm as mystified as you lot probably are.) I can only conclude that he has some sort of gang, which frankly doesn't surprise me. James is a prejudiced idiot, insulting Muggles and all. _

_Al is as pesky as usual, but I can tolerate him. I like Hogwarts, overall, very much. My hand hurts now, so I think I'll put my quill down and go play outside with the boys and Caroline and Patricia. _

_See you, _

_Rose _

* * *

"You may leave."

Scorpius sighed and rubbed his wand hand – that bloody monster of a woman, Professor Eclipse, had made him write lines, _just_ because he had snapped back at her when she had insulted him and his family in class. He was _allowed_ to do so, he fumed. She was his teacher, Merlin, not a student. Teachers _weren't_ supposed to jeer at their students.

"Do I have to come back tomorrow?"

Selene Eclipse glanced at the clock. As much as she wanted to say yes, she _was_ a Professor, responsible and here to teach. She admitted to herself that she did _occasionally_ abuse her power... but the boy had asked for it. And Merlin, she did _not_ tolerate pottymouths in her classroom. She was angry at what his family had done – she had a bloody right to insult him a bit, didn't she?

"No, you don't. But Malfoy, be warned..."

"Yes?"

"I don't tolerate disrespect in my classroom, Malfoy. Remember that, or you'll end up writing lines again. You are dismissed."

Scorpius glared at her and shut the door after him.

It was quiet, in the dungeons. The only light came from the green torches, hanging against the stone walls. Scorpius shivered; he couldn't wait to get back to Gryffindor Tower. Not only did he have homework to do, but he was awfully tired of running into Beetle and Smith and having to hex them yet again – those two would never learn, would they? Rose had been with him during one of those times; the damned Slytherin gits had ended up in the hospital wing. Scorpius wondered vaguely where Rose had learned to Stun; he wondered if she could teach him. It'd come in handy...

There was also the matter of Alcmene, but it was the weekend...

"Scorpius!"

He turned, and there was Alcmene, walking towards him, two or three textbooks hugged against her chest. Her chocolate brown hair fell past her shoulders, contrasting with the paleness of her skin and her lips' blood red. She smiled at him.

"Hey, Alcmene," he said wearily. "What're you doing here?"

"I live in the dungeons," she replied with a roll of her eyes and a nudge of her elbow. "I was on my way to the library to do my homework. I should ask you the same question. This isn't really a Gryffindor's territory, you know."

Scorpius reddened. "That bloody Eclipse got me in detention."

She looked round before answering. "Yeah, she's a bit unfair." At his quizzical look, Alcmene added, "Well, she _is_ our Head of House now."

He smirked. "And you're scared of her, Ally?"

Alcmene kicked him. "'Course not. I'm just careful. As you had never been."

"Yeah, yeah," Scorpius said darkly, "That's why I'm a Malfoy. In _Gryffindor_!"

"I thought you said you _didn't_ mind?"

He huffed. "You think I was serious?"

"You're scared."

"Am not," Scorpius snapped.

She smirked. "Are too. You're bloody scared of your father."

"Oh, you don't know what it's like, Alcmene," he folded his arms. "Aunt Daphne and Uncle Theodore don't really believe in that blood supremacy riffraff anymore, don't they? Mother and Father _do_, and so do Granddad and Grandmother, I'm sure! Even Megara, I think, even though she was Ravenclaw! What _if_ they kick me out?"

"Well..." Alcmene bit her lip. "You could always stay at my place. Dad likes you, you know, and Mum too."

He smiled a tiny bit and hugged her. "You're the best, Alcmene."

"You too. We'd better not let Belisaria hear that."

Scorpius laughed at what their younger cousin, Aunt Mnemosyne's six year old daughter Mnemosyne, would say at that.

"Scorpius! OI!"

"Al?" Scorpius said, cocking an eyebrow.

Al reddened at their stares. "Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't know that you were busy."

He shrugged. "It's fine. Alcmene, this is Albus Potter, my best mate."

Alcmene smiled at Al. "Hi."

"Al, this is Alcmene Nott – the cousin I've spoken of."

The Slytherin and the Gryffindor shook hands. Scorpius noticed that Al blushed even more as he regarded Alcmene. The blond boy chuckled internally. He'd have to bug Al about that later on.

"So, what'd you want to tell me?" Scorpius asked.

Al grinned and got something from a sack Scorpius hadn't noticed that he had been carrying. When the blond boy looked closer, he saw that it was a cloak – or something. It was fluid, of a silvery-grey color; under the light of the greenish torches of the dungeons, it gleamed. Both Scorpius and Alcmene stared at it.

"_Where _did you get an _Invisibility Cloak_?" Alcmene asked, reaching out to finger it.

"It's James's," Al shrugged. "He'd nicked it from Dad's trunk."

"And he gave it to you?" Scorpius had met his friend's brother, and he didn't seem like the type of person to part with his possessions, especially a valuable Invisibility Cloak such as the one Al held in his hands.

There, Al grinned again, though slyly. "No. It's a long story."

"Well," Scorpius demanded, "Try it on, then!"

Al slipped on the cloak. He felt a bit silly, as it was several sizes too long, but then he felt it fit him. He turned to Scorpius and Alcmene, who were staring right through him. Al took that as a positive sign and looked down at his body. It had vanished!

"Wicked!" Alcmene grinned at him when he'd taken it off. "Can I try?"

Each of them tried it on, and then Al said, "Well, it'll come in handy, don't you think, Scorpius?"

Scorpius deducted from the pointed look his friend gave him that he meant Slughorn's hypothetical murder. He shrugged and turned to his cousin. "Listen, Alcmene, d'you mind not telling anyone? We wouldn't want-"

Alcmene smirked. "Yes, you wouldn't want people sneaking into your dormitory. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Keeping secrets is a Slytherin's virtue and trademark." She was about to leave before she remembered the letter in her pocket. She handed it to Scorpius, who stared at it confusedly.

"It's from your dad," Alcmene said with a small pitying look. "He tells me to give it to you."

"Can I just _burn_ it?" said Scorpius quietly. "I don't care about the crap he'll be sprouting."

She shrugged. "He _is_ your dad. You don't need to answer it, just read it."

Alcmene was gone with that, and Scorpius handed the letter to Al.

"You can keep this. I don't bloody _care_ about Father's reaction to my Sorting."

Al watched his friend stomp off. Too curious to resist the temptation, he unfolded it and began reading.

_Dear Alcmene, _

_Astoria and I have heard of Scorpius's Sorting from an old family friend, and naturally, I am not the least pleased. I however congratulate you for your traditional Sorting, and I would ask you to transmit this message to Scorpius. _

_Let him know that he is to expect my questioning once he returns for the Christmas holidays. I desire to know why, exactly, he ended up in Gryffindor. He is a bright child, certainly. Tell him to not consort with wrong types, such as the Potter and Weasley brats. I have heard of his friendships with them also. I will not let my own son become a blood traitor._

_I would also want him to know that I accept nothing from the best grades from him. _

_Lastly. Scorpius is much too curious for his own good. I would like you to keep him out of trouble – no more detentions. It is most embarrassing for the family to receive a letter from Professor Eclipse, Head of Slytherin House, complaining about Scorpius's disrespect of authority in her class. _

_Sincerely thanking you, _

_Draco Malfoy _

Al frowned at the letter and resisted the urge to tear it to shreds. He couldn't believe that a father could be so... disgusting. Yes, that was the word. Draco Malfoy utterly repulsed him. Al could definitely understand why Uncle Ron and Dad were so wary of him. How could he treat his own son like this? Al had half-believed Dad when he had said that he and Mum didn't mind where he was Sorted, but now, he definitely did.

A family's love was unconditional, he had heard from somewhere. It seemed, somehow, that Draco Malfoy's wasn't.

No wonder in the few times Scorpius had spoken of his family, he had called it messed-up.

* * *

**Long due, I know :P **

**Thanks for The QAS, WhisperMaw, and Anonymous for reviewing :) **

**To WhisperMaw: Hmm... Never would have thought of that... Nope, not a goddess. **

**Next up are the Aurors, with a glimpse of Scorpius's sister, Megara. After that, someone'll disappear. **


	8. The Aurors' Meeting

The Aurors' Meeting

Harry Potter checked his battered, slightly grimy watch (he'd wash it with a wipe once he got home) once he had stepped into the gilded lift. There were three or four other people there: two arguing workers from Magical Maintenance and a young woman wearing the dark robes of an Unspeakable. The lift operator glanced at the maintenance workers, who were on the verge of yelling at each other, and sighed wearily. He pulled a lever and the Atrium soon disappeared from view.

The stars that were used as arrows were indicating that it was currently two-thirty, which meant that he had approximately half an hour to prepare himself for the meeting. This meeting wasn't an ordinary routine one; the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was going to attend. Harry hoped that his second-in-command, Calliope Thames, would be there; he needed to exchange a word or two with her and Ron.

He only began staring at the young woman in boredom; he found it quite odd that she would get into a lift going down when she could just take one going up, as the Department of Mysteries was, after all, on the floor over the Atrium. When the recorded voice of the witch announced Level Five, he turned to her.

"Excuse me for asking," Harry said, "but aren't you headed for the Department of Mysteries?"

Cold grey eyes stared back at him, and he suddenly realised why he had thought that she looked familiar, earlier on. "So," the witch said in a tone that was half-taunting, half-amused, "You can recognize the color of the robes that Unspeakables wear. Congratulations, Potter."

The two men from Magical Maintenance stopped rowing for a moment to stare at her. One of them, the burly, badly shaven one, said, "'Ey! Aren' you the little scum tha' the Departmen' of Mysteries took by pity!" to his companion, who jeered.

"The Ministry of Magic is supposed to be _indiscriminating_," she said coolly, sneering, "so I'm not entirely sure that your theory is rightly formulated, sir."

She clenched her jaw and turned back to Harry, who had been just about to defend her. He had known her, before; even if he hated her family, he wasn't about to let her be pushed round. However, it seemed that his services weren't quite required.

"Megara Malfoy?" Harry blurted out before she could say anything. "You _graduated_?"

She snickered. "Don't look so surprised, Potter," Megara inclined her head. "Last year, actually. I think you are a _tiny_ bit behind the times."

Harry scowled. He had, actually, heard of her graduation, from Andromeda "You know Narcissa's granddaughter?" "Yeah?" "Well, she graduated in June. Teddy and I went to her graduation ceremony, actually." In his defence, though, he wasn't exactly thinking about the Malfoys' lives twenty-four-seven.

"Maybe I am," he shrugged. "I thought you had to train for three years to be an Unspeakable?"

"You've confused my field with yours," she remarked, shaking her head. "Only three summer-long internships."

"But _still_-"

Megara smirked. "You can't know everything, Potter, even if you _did_ defeat the Dark Lord."

"I wasn't exactly _asking_ for your political views," he snapped.

She appraised him, nose raised and head tilted.

"I told you my political views, back in the first year," Megara said softly, sneering. "Not really the place to discuss them, though, don't you think? Anyway. I digress. Headed for an important meeting, Potter?"

"Now," said Harry, frowning at her, "I really want to know _how_ you know this. It's confidential."

"Lupin's still a close mate of mine." She gave a sly smile. "And I have my ways of knowing."

"That's not really encouraged," he muttered. "I'm going to ask Teddy about this..."

"Oh, of course you will. But he's allowed to have friends you hadn't specifically approved of, you know. We all are, actually."

The witch's falsely cheery voice announced, "Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Harry stepped out of lift, more than glad to do so.

* * *

There was no time to vent over Megara Malfoy – he would leave that to later – once Harry arrived to the Auror Headquarters. Each Auror had their own cubicle; Harry's was between Jacob MacDonald's and Calliope Thames's. He put the rest of his lunch on his messy desk and kicked open the security door.

He couldn't help but see blood, at first, when the thin corridor, its sides surrounded by grey cubicles, came into sight. Then, he frowned and reminded himself that the year was not 2006; that escaped convicts were not here, laughing at the mauling of their previous comrade; that he was safe now.

He reminded himself that _she_ was gone.

The conference room was at the end of the corridor. From the outside, he could hear voices that he recognized – the Minister's, Ron's, Calliope's, MacDonald's – he turned the knob. The Minister for Magic wasn't seated, and nor were the others; they stood around the large, gleaming clean table with twelve chairs (for the highest-ranking Aurors, and one for the acting Minister), speaking, joking, laughing.

"Harry!" Ron was the first to spot him. "You're _finally_ here! Where'd you go to lunch, _this_ time?"

Harry tried to conserve his dignity. "Leaky Cauldron," he said defensively. "Hannah gave me today's soup and some spaghetti. Played Catch-the-Snitch with Kellan for a while."

"Well," Calliope Thames narrowed her eyes at the two of them. "Important thing is that you're not late, Potter."

Jacob MacDonald snorted.

"Well said, Mrs Thames," Shacklebolt said in his deep, calming voice. "Harry, you're right on time. We'll have to discuss some things before we begin." He paused, frowning, and then his mouth curled into a small smile. "How about we all sit down? It'll be more comfortable."

"Yes, Minister," came the replies of the four Aurors. The sound of chairs being pulled out could be heard as they sat down.

"So," Shacklebolt looked at them carefully, especially Harry, "I would like to know why, exactly, you requested a meeting, Harry."

"You didn't hear?" When the Minister shook his head, Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well. Neville sent me a letter, a while ago. Do you remember Horace Slughorn's recent death?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "what about it?"

Harry dipped his head. "He died of _Protego Reverso_. Neville suspects that it's her work."

Each and every of the Aurors knew who she was; Calliope gasped; Ron's eyes widened; MacDonald didn't look bored, for a change. Shacklebolt stayed calm, his face betraying nothing, although he did shift uncomfortably. "Are you sure, Harry?" the Minister for Magic inquired.

"Very," Harry said, sounding confident. "I'll state the evidence once everyone's here."

Shacklebolt got up. "I'll be out for a while, but I'll be back on time," he said, nodding to them, and he closed the door behind them.

The other Aurors, once they arrived, had questions for Harry, of course. Harry waved them off, saying that the meeting would answer all of them, and that they were welcome to take a seat if they wanted to. Neville was the last to arrive; he still wore his dragon hide gloves for Herbology when he came through the door.

Too soon, it seemed, the clock struck three, and the meeting could officially begin.

* * *

"... Potter, you _must_ be kidding. Lestrange is _not_ back."

The statement hung through the air, as the tension did, thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Some Aurors, like Fudge had done, downright refused to believe that she was back. She, the Dark witch unlike any other who had threatened the Ministry years ago, during the 2006 rebellion.

"You don't want to believe that, Brenn," Harry said pleasantly to the thin-faced man, "because that will mean that you will have to live in fear once more."

"_Exactly_, Potter," MacDonald growled in support. "Some of us, contrarily to you, are not exactly brave."

Shacklebolt intervened before any of them could get into further argument. "That is true, Jacob," he intoned in a don't-you-contest-me tone. "But we shall all try. What Harry says is, I believe, quite true. _Protego Reverso_ is known to be her signature spell, remember?"

"What's more," said a cynical voice that wasn't any of the Aurors', "is that her brand was hovering over Slughorn, like a Dark Mark in the sky, when his body was moved back to his quarters, several hours after his death. That closes all discussion on the matter, I must say."

Heads turned. The voice came from one of the many portraits in the conference room – in this case, the portrait of Professor Severus Snape, former Headmaster of Hogwarts, former Potions Master, and former Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor. Snape sat in his hard wooden chair, looking at them impassively with his cold black eyes. His hair was as greasy as ever; there was a hint of a bored drawl in his cynical tone.

"Where did you hear that, Professor?" Harry asked, twisting in his seat to face him.

Snape shrugged. "I'm a portrait, Potter; I hear many things you living people do not."

"You're _lying_," Ron shot; his face was paler than usual. His freckles stood out, golden-brown against his momentary milk-coloured complexion. His hands were forming fists as he glared at his former Professor. Unlike Harry, who had just about gotten over his dislike of Snape, Ron's hate of the man had never really left him in the nineteen years since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. "Snape, you're bloody _lying_."

"Don't be the fool you already are, Weasley," Snape crossed his arms and sneered. He couldn't help but snicker. "I know more about _her_ than you, I'm afraid."

"Let Severus speak," Shacklebolt ordered. "Severus, have you seen the brand for yourself?"

"On Slughorn?" Snape slowly nodded, his expression emotionless. "Yes. You see, he has a portrait of himself, in his quarters – it came to find me as soon as his death was confirmed." He shut his eyes, as if he were reliving some past painful experience – a shocking event, when it came to the impassiveness of Severus Snape, to be displaying emotions so openly. And again, Harry thought, he was a portrait of a dead man, and he probably didn't really _care_. "You've seen it before, haven't you, Kingsley?"

"Once," Shacklebolt answered quietly, "once, over the body of Mrs Lee. Quite a loss."

Harry bowed his head at the mention of his colleague, deceased in the midst of the gory battle that had raged in December 2006, marking the end of the rebellion. The atmosphere was more subdued around him, as well. He cleared his throat and looked at Neville. "Neville," he said, "have you told McGonagall of Filch, yet?"

Neville nodded, drumming his fingers nervously against the wood of the table. He was painfully aware of the Aurors' and the Minister's stares. "Yes. We're planning to run a Legilimency examination over him after this meeting. He's a Squib; it'll be easy enough, I think. Then, we'll get someone to arrest him, and he'll be shipped to Azkaban to await his trial."

"What good will _that_ do?" MacDonald asked scornfully. "You know that her followers can just escape. She has a talent for helping them at that."

"Oh, you and your bloody negative comments," Ron said sarcastically, scowling. "You're a real help, MacDonald."

"We're not going to fight," said Harry firmly. "We're going to-"

"... Unite and blah blah blah," MacDonald muttered. "Don't care."

Harry sometimes thought that the only reason he bothered keeping MacDonald as an employee was that he was an efficient, clever, quick-witted Auror, however surly and sarcastic he was. It was unfair to be fired because of your attitude, Harry mused.

"Jacob," Shacklebolt said in warning. He gathered his papers. "OK. So Harry, you're going to send a band of Aurors to Hogwarts as soon of possible."

Harry nodded. "Yes, Kingsley."

The Minister for Magic turned to Neville. "And you, Neville," he intoned. "You will be assigned the watch of not only Albus Potter at Hogwarts, but of also the rest of the Weasleys and the Potters in Gryffindor House. I want you to ask Julia and Selene to do the same, as well as with Drago. Everyone who has associations with the heroes of our side is at risk."

He stood up, satisfied, and nodded respectively to each of them before exiting.

* * *

"You thinking, Harry?" Ron said, trying to be cheery but failing drastically.

The three of them sat in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron with glasses of Butterbeers in front of them. For the past hour, they had quickly finished their dinner and promptly moved on to more important things – notably, the afternoon's meeting. Harry had drifted off mid-sentence, and was now staring off into space.

"Yeah, Ron," he said absentmindedly. "I'm a bit-"

"Worried?" Neville offered with a grim smile.

Harry nodded. "Haven't felt this anxious since the rebellion," he muttered.

"This isn't that much different from when we were fighting Voldemort," Ron pointed out. He was awarded with frowns – perhaps he hadn't been exactly sensitive, Ron thought, scratching his head. Some of this sensitivity versus bluntness etiquette still confused him vehemently, sometimes.

"Actually," Harry said, "it's very different. We didn't have kids then, mate. Before, I only worried about my friends and family – a bit about myself, too – but I didn't exactly have children running round. The thought of your children being caught up in this war business – it's a different kind of hurt."

Neville nodded, fiddling with his napkin.

"Agreed, mate," Ron at least had the decency to look remotely ashamed at his bluntness.

"I have a bad feeling about this," his friend continued. "Like..." He waved his hands idly. "Like, it's not our adventures anymore. It's theirs... And we can't really do much about that. As if we're 'too not' caught up with this stuff to help."

Ron snorted. "Are you aware of how cheesy that sounded?"

Harry smiled wryly. "It does sound rather silly, doesn't it?"

Neville shrugged at them and sipped his Butterbeer thoughtfully.

"Only time can tell," he said quietly. "Only time can tell, mates. We'll have to take this day by day..."

* * *

**Kinda crappy, I know *sigh* But I do like the first and last parts. **

**First of all: thank you for all of the reviews, once again :) **

**To The QAS: Thanks, especially, for the super-long review! I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE them! About Draco: yes, he may seem a bit harsh, but I promise that you'll see his side of the story at Christmas. As for the next gen kids, thank you :) It's good to know. I do agree with you on Rose - I think that she would have at least _a little_ of Ron in her. Can't wait to see your Rose! **

**To Anonymous Reviewer: Yes, Percy will appear, and PJO too, but later on. **

**To alikat99 and GillRocks: Thank you! **

**To Hellfire44: Patience, it'll be included very soon. **

**Now, about the later chapters. I have them all planned out - I _did_ write year 1 before. Next up is when someone disappears, and then Rose decides that it's time to take action. We'll find out more about Scorpius and his relationship with his family in the later chapters, along with more about an incident in Rose's childhood in particular. **

**About the updating: Now that the summer is over, I'm busier, but I'll try to update as soon as possible. The next chapters - my previous part 2 - are the hardest to write, I think, so don't expect anything too soon. **

**That's all :) Sorry for the super-long AN. **


	9. McGonagall's Disappearance

McGonagall's Disappearance

"Hermione," Ron exhaled loudly, rubbing his temple, as he stared at the letter from his daughter in shock,"_when_ did we encourage our children to get friendly with_ Malfoys_?"

"Actually," she narrowed her eyes at him as she posed the plate of pasta on their dinner table and took off her oven mitts, "I think it was rather your fault." She nudged Hugo. "Stop reading, you'll over-use your eyes and we'll have to get you new glasses. Put that book down, will you – and dig in the pasta."

"_Yes_, Mum," Hugo said in a monotone, tearing off a bit from his napkin and putting it as a bookmark in his book – one thicker than the other, Hermione thought, half-exasperated, half-fond as she watched him grab his fork and begin to wolf everything down. He reminded him so much of herself, when she was that age... except with friends. The nine year-old Hermione didn't exactly_ have_ friends.

"What?" Ron burst out, having just realised what his wife had said. "Excuse me, Hermione?"

She scowled at him and took a sip of her orange juice. "I was saying," she said, wiping her mouth, "that you probably tempted Rose into befriending him – Rose and Al. Pointing the Malfoys at the platform probably wasn't the best idea, you know." She frowned as his ears turned red and he scowled. "Stop acting like a teenager, Ronald."

"_Meh_?" Ron said, offended, his mouth full of pasta. He swallowed and licked his lips. "Well, Hermione, how was I supposed to guess that _she_ was going to twist _my_ suggestion _her_ way?"

Hugo looked down at his feet nervously; he hated when his parents. He was quite brilliant, but he somehow didn't deal with situations such as these very well; he was definitely not a "people person". Clearing his throat, he said in a small voice, "Are you fighting?"

His parents seemed to realise that there was a third guest at dinner, that they weren't alone; Hermione smiled apologetically while Ron reached out to awkwardly pat his elbow. "We're fine, Hughie," he said in what he perceived as a reassuring tone, but only made Hugo more suspicious, "We're just tired."

"Tired?" Hugo repeated, sounding disbelieving.

"Tired." Hermione echoed. "You've surely heard of his Auror work recently from Lills, haven't you?"

Hugo frowned. He did remember something like that, but Auror work didn't interest him particularly; he thought that it was too dangerous, going after Dark wizards day and night. He admired his father and his uncle, men whose bravery he would never have; he sometimes wondered how he came to be, the child of war heroes entirely devoid of courage.

"A bit," he muttered, scooping up a stray tomato with his fork. "Okay. Whatever."

* * *

"No! No! No! _Please_!"

Neville tossed and turned in his bed, sitting up in cold sweat. He tried to convince himself that this was a bad dream, a haunting from his days from the war. However, it didn't work, and then he realised the truth: the screams were coming from Hogwarts's very walls.

_Perhaps it was a student having a particularly scary nightmare? _

His gut instinct kicked in and told him no; told him that they were coming from one of the staff; somewhere inside him, he knew that someone was under attack. "I'm going to go see," he muttered, fumbling for his shoes and wand. Perhaps it was his old paranoia that motivated his recklessness; perhaps it was his refusal to see the loss of another life.

His eyes and ears were on Auror mode, his wand lighting his way. He knew every inch of this castle, be it from seven years of schooling or more years of employment; he limped this way and that, ignoring the pain in his leg. He had been on the job for years with it; his limp had been caused by a stray curse during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Shut up, blood traitor," said a cold feminine voice. Neville winced at the familiarity of it.

He was getting closer to the Headmistress's office and her private quarters; his legs began carrying him quicker than ever to his goal. He had enough experience as an Auror and a war hero to envision the other option that no one wanted to think of: that he might not be able to save McGonagall.

He was right. The private quarters were empty once he arrived; and there it was, as he looked over the blood splattered onto the wall: the ugly grey mark of a skull, similar to a Dark Mark, but not quite: over it were the words _Dominus_ _Hades Irrevocabiliter Dominatur_.

_Lord Hades Irrevocably Rules_. He traced the words with his index finger, the proof that Cassiopeia Lestrange, a Dark witch to rival Voldemort, had, without a question, returned.

* * *

"Longbottom is _Headmaster_?" Scorpius blurted out, incredulous, slapping his forehead. "Please, tell me that I'm dreaming. This is beyond horrible."

He was sprawled out on his four-poster, reading through the latest edition of Quidditch Weekly, gazing longingly at the display of new racing brooms. His finger jabbed one of the flashiest, a _Jupiter _or a _StormFlyer_ – Al hadn't read there yet. "Oh," he sighed, "Only if Father would accept to gift me with at least a more decent broom at Christmas... but if I'm lucky to get a present at all, I'll end up with a Hand of Glory again."

"Brat," Rose snapped from her spot on the carpet. She didn't seem in too much of a good mood today, Al thought. He gave himself the responsibility to mediate between the two of them: with Rose's passion on one side, and Scorpius's haughtiness on the other, things could get messy.

"Mate," Al said evenly, "You can't hate him _that _badly. He only glared at you. Once."

Scorpius shrugged and frowned. "I'll hate anyone who refuses to treat me as I should be treated – as _me_. If you children of war heroes deserve something, like being treated as yourselves, then a child of a Death Eater should be given that right as well. What did that Muggle bloke say? Oh, yeah – 'All men are created equal.'" He flipped a page and scowled. "What does _that_ say about the wizarding world?"

"That we're not perfect?" Rose tapped her quill against the parchment paper. "_Argh_, why does Eclipse insist on giving us so much bloody homework?"

"Filch is in Azkaban now?" Al asked, opening a comic book. Sometimes, he just needed to relax. Speaking to two hormonal eleven year-old friends was not the best way to do so, it seemed.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Duh. He's being held for questioning."

"Idiotic," Scorpius sighed. "He'll escape one day, mark my words. That Lestrange woman is a damn genius."

"You fancy her?" her eyes widened as she smirked. "_Merlin_, Scorpius."

"I don't," he retorted coolly, crossing his arms. His skin took a pink tinge. "Just – oh, nothing." He bit his lip, in thought. "She's supposed to be dead, from what I gather. Didn't your dads and another Auror-"

"Priscilla Thames's mum," Al answered promptly. "She's Dad's second-in-command. Dad offered to Uncle Ron, but he declined."

"-kill her? They hunted her down and killed her," Scorpius finished.

"Well, obviously," Rose rolled her eyes again, "She's alive and well. And gathering force." Her eyes lit up. "Ooh! I have an idea!"

"Be careful," Al said in an undertone to Scorpius, who smirked. "What is it, Rose?"

"We break in McGonagall's quarters," she sounded breathless, "and we look for clues. Maybe we'll find one that'll lead to her capture, and we'll be in the newspaper!"

"Or we get caught?" Al crossed his arms. "_Blimey_, Rose. Neville's Headmaster now. He could expel us."

"Not you two," Scorpius murmured. "Me." He pursued his lips and grinned cockily at Rose. "And I'm in."

* * *

**Well, this was certainly easier to write than I'd thought :) **

**This chapter is for The QAS - and your awesome, mega-sized reviews! :) Yes, Megara is a Greek name - I originally intended to call her Megaera, as in one of the Furies ("the jealous one"), but I actually misspelt it and decided it looked better that way. Anyway, "Megara" is the wife of Hercules, that he may or may not have killed, or an Ancient Greek city. **

**From now on, there will be PJO elements... like you just saw here. It is to be noted: according to my own, personal canon, the battle against Kronos took place in 2007. So, now - Nico is in his mid-twenties, Rachel and Percy and all of them in their late twenties... Yup, they're grown up, just like Harry and the gang. They're going to appear sooner or later - and you'll see that things between demigods in America... aren't that great. And, you'll see that the British ones of Nico's world do things a bit different. **

**Lastly. None of the trio are demigods - but they still have worth in Nico's world; yet another difference between America and Britain. In America, we don't really pay attention to those kids related to the gods but not demigods, right? In Britain, though, they do. **

**Well, I can't say when, exactly, the next chapter will come out, but we'll see Rose's plan get into action, and find out a few things about Scorpius, Rose, and maybe Al's pasts. Then, after that, they'll break into McGonagall's quarters... Not exactly without consequences. **

**Please read and review, especially if you favourited/alerted! **


	10. Measures for War

**First of all, thanks to The QAS, happygoluckyfull, pjoperson, and Ijoan for reviewing! Those reviews make my day :) **

**Secondly, I'm really sorry for the long delay :P Next update will come faster, in fact, because I've already written the next chapter :) This chapter, by the way, isn't Rose's plan... Sorry. It's kind of a behind-the-scenes thing in Rose, Albus, and Scorpius' story, featuring characters from PJO (finally!) and two other familiar characters... **

**Thirdly, I hadn't started reading _The Son of Neptune_ when I began writing this character, so it might be a bit AU. I still haven't finished, actually :P **

**Finally, if you've still stuck with me for all this time, you can (finally!) get on to reading the actual chapter and not a mega-long author's note and then look for the explanations on the bottom. Thank you :)**

* * *

Measures for War

Athena's grey eyes surveyed Camp Half-Blood... Or what was left of it, anyway. It wasn't much; even a helplessly optimistic person, who the goddess wasn't, could say as much. The smouldering remains of what seemed to be the Big House lay at the base of the hill pitifully. There was nothing left from the volleyball court, except for a small, charred heap.

Over at the cabins, she could see a large group of Romans, holding torches to illuminate the darkness of the evening. The days, of course, were already shortening, even in mid-September; Athena shook her head sadly at the younger Greek demigods, who were restrained, bound, and thrown into flying chariots by rough-looking Romans.

Of course, Athena wasn't heartless – but she was clever, after all, and there were some things that were simply above her power. The poor demigods would have to find their own way; it was the work of the Fates. She had learnt long ago that it was useless to intervene there, even if she was an Olympic goddess.

However, she did have to do something, anything to prevent other unfortunate events such as these to happen – even if it went against Zeus's word.

The sounds of padding footsteps made her whip round instinctively, always invisible – she then cursed her impetuousness. If she had been incognito before, it was because she had been standing perfectly still. Now, the intruder had certainly seen the air shimmer – Athena's cover was blown.

"Who are you?" snarled a familiar voice. Athena recognized it – Lupa, the she-wolf. "Show yourself!"

The Greek goddess laughed softly and lowered her hood, effectively rendering herself visible. "Hello, Lupa," she said quietly, her grey eyes boring into the she-wolf's pale eyes. For a moment, they stared at each other. "I offer my congratulations for your success in your plans. They have taken much effort, I see."

Lupa's silvery eyes, much paler than Athena's darker grey, narrowed. She prowled closer, circling the goddess; Lupa the she-wolf bared her teeth. "I know that you resent me, my troops and I," Lupa murmured, her eyes glinting, "but you Greeks will be grateful of this, come a time."

"Destruction does not bring flourishing," Athena said.

"Maybe not to you Greeks." Lupa gifted the goddess with a curve of her mouth. "But to us Romans, it does, of course – when Aenaes escaped the destruction and the suffering of the burning city of Troy, he arrived to what would become the Roman Empire. It is proof that from destruction comes flourishing." She stretched and looked at Athena in the eye. "I know you Greeks think of I as a savage. But that, I am not. And so: I offer you a pact."

Athena tilted her head, considering. "A pact?"

"You have powerful demigods at your reach, do you not?" Lupa studied a pile of nearby boulders intently. "I am building an army, as you are well aware, Athena. The Roman gods, they, of course, most approve. We are in for the greater good, after all." She frowned. "I have ridden this camp of the weak. But from the wars – well, the veterans are still alive. They are certainly not weak. They are strong. Jackson is strong too, yes, but his loyalty stays with Chiron."

"Chiron is getting old, Athena," the she-wolf continued. "His judgment is affected by his softened heart. In the ideals of Rome, it is a most disturbing disadvantage. My heart is hard. I do what I have to do – even if I must kill to do it. Soon, the storm brewing in Great Britain by the Helm of Darkness, Cassiopeia Lestrange, will reach America. And I will be there to face it."

She stared at the Greek goddess. "So, here is my pact: I give you peace. In return, you will recruit every powerful Greek demigod within your reach, and submit them to me. If you apply the terms of our pact, I will not unleash any more monsters on your half-bloods. I will not burn any more of their homes."

Athena was clever. She was shrewd, wise, and combative. Athena knew one thing for sure: this pact was practically perfect, in terms of war.

The only problem was that she would have to work alone to comply with the pact's terms: she would have to work alone to convince the so-called powerful demigods to join Lupa.

No matter – Athena was Athena, and she would find her way.

"I accept," the Greek goddess told Lupa the she-wolf.

Lupa bared her teeth into a wolf-grin. "That is good," she said simply. "You will see me at my usual headquarters next week to discuss of your progress."

Without further words, she sauntered off and disappeared, the darkness closing around her burly form.

* * *

Nico di Angelo was not used to fixing cups of hot chocolate for a Greek goddess – to be precise, he had never gotten a visit from a Greek goddess in his freaking apartment, for Hades' sake. "Tell me again," he repeated, his tone disbelieving. "You're expecting me to believe that Camp Half-Blood _fell_ when me and Rachel were eating dinner at Percy and Annabeth's?"

"Disrespect to a goddess will not earn you points for the Fields of Elysium," Athena said drily.

"Whatever," Nico replied, shrugging. "Dad's going to pass me there, anyway." He smirked at her. "You know he loves me."

"Oh, yes," said a young woman's voice, "I've seen you and your dad. You two really have the ideal father-son relationship, all right."

Both Nico and Athena twisted their heads to see Rachel Dare entering the door and shutting the kitchen door behind her. She slid into the chair beside Nico and pointed to the extra mug her boyfriend had filled. "Mind if I have it?"

Nico shook his head and spread out his hands. "Rach," he said slowly, "Do you believe what Athena's saying? She says that-"

"Athena's here – oh, hello, my Lady!" Rachel exclaimed, bestowing her elder with a small, embarrassed smile.

The Greek goddess merely raised an eyebrow. "Good evening, Miss Dare."

"I _said_," Nico said loudly, as if he were afraid that the two of them would begin gossiping, "that Athena said that Camp Half-Blood got invaded by freaking _Romans _in our absence." He waited, expecting his girlfriend to bristle and shout at Athena that she was bonkers for thinking so.

Needless to say, he was quite disappointed when Rachel shrugged and said, "I kind of suspected something."

"I love you, Rach – _what_?" Nico had begun grinning at her, only to realise what she had just said.

"Why else would Percy just randomly disappear after dinner, even when Lea was clearly demanding him and his attention?" Rachel rolled his eyes, referencing Annabeth and Percy's youngest of three children. Lea Jackson was, most clearly, a daddy's girl. "Being the noble jerk he's always been, I _naturally_ suspected something."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Then why didn't you tell me?"

Rachel shrugged.

"The point is," Athena interrupted, before Nico and Rachel could have a chance to go at each other, "Lupa made a pact with me." She briefly went through the conversation she had had with the leader of the Roman party. "Would you accept, Mr di Angelo?"

He threw up his hands and stared at her. "You want me to work for a crazy Roman wolf that killed my friends?"

"_Nico_," Rachel warned.

But Nico was, most unfortunately for the two women, on a roll. He stood up, looming over the goddess. Nico crossed his arms, glaring at Athena, whose face remained conveniently cool. "But of course you gods wouldn't care, would you?" he spat at her spitefully. "No, all you want is power! I bet that Lupa is a fraud-"

"Mr di Angelo," Athena interrupted coolly, "I am the goddess of wisdom. Surely, I am sufficiently intelligent to judge?"

Nico took a breath. "I'm not," he breathed heavily, "working for a murderer, Athena. _Never_."

Athena leaned across the table, her grey eyes piercing his black. "What if I tell you this, Mr di Angelo? Your half-sister is back. She has already begun killing innocent bystanders in her home country. Soon, she will come here... And be told that she bears a grudge against Camp Half-Blood. The destruction will be horrible. The mortals will even become aware-"

"They already _are_," Nico snapped. "Because of your so-called ally, the _wonderful_ Lupa."

With that, he stomped off, slamming the door in the process.

Rachel turned to Athena, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry," she said. "Nico's kind of-"

"Good at holding grudges? I thought so," Athena lifted an eyebrow. She got up and looked at the young woman – no, really, the mortal Rachel Dare still resembled a girl. "Thank you for the hot chocolate. I will visit a few of my other children next, to try to convince them to join Lupa's cause."

Rachel stared at her elder with her bright green eyes. "It really is serious, isn't it? If you're with the Romans, now?"

"I do what I have to do," Athena told her impassively, echoing Lupa's earlier words. "Goodbye, Miss Dare."

She was about to disappear, when she heard the girl's cry of, "Wait!"

Rachel Dare shifted uncomfortably, her eyes downcast. "I want to help."

"I thought so," Athena smiled to herself. She had always known that the girl possessed superior brains than her boyfriend, that Hades spawn.

* * *

Narcissa laid her head on Lucius' chest, her eyes half-closed. "Draco told me about Scorpius," she murmured. "He got detention from Longbottom _again_, this time for attempting to break into the Restricted Section at the library with the Potter and Weasley brats-"

Her husband shook his head, an expression of disdain on his scarred face. His hand reached down to gently rake through Narcissa's mane of cornsilk-coloured hair. "I have abandoned all hope of drilling into the boy's thick skull the foundations of blood purity, daffodil," he drawled, smirking, "but I suppose Draco can always hope. Scorpius is his heir, after all."

"What _I_ don't understand," Narcissa replied, "is how Longbottom is still Head of House when he's Headmaster."

Lucius shrugged. "Those damn war heroes have the Governors under their spell. I don't see why Longbottom would be any different."

"Not all the damn war heroes," Narcissa corrected. She pouted at him. "What about _me_?"

He smirked and twisted round to kiss her. "You're a different species, darling. To them, you are merely a Slytherin-bitch-Malfoy, which is quite rude, comparing to what you did – save Saint Potter's life." Lucius tilted his head, considering. "But _I_ still think you're rather brave."

"How utterly _romantic_ of you," Narcissa said sarcastically, though she moved her head from his chest and curled up a bit closer to him. She yawned, stretching. "I suppose I should be going to bed now; remember Andromeda's letter from last week?"

"Oh, yes," Lucius murmured. She'd read it to him; apparently, Andromeda was inviting his wife to have a brunch with her and her grandson, Teddy, at their house – well, Lucius wasn't going to stop her seeing the blood traitor. The only time she'd actually _listened_ to something he had said was during the height of the First War, when he'd suggested that she lay low in order to not attract attention from the Dark Lord; and again, it had been for her wellbeing, and Narcissa was nothing if not Slytherin.

To be frank, he found her entire I-don't-give-a-shit-about-your-opinion demeanour quite... well, if it hadn't sounded so atrociously _plebeian_, he'd have said it made Narcissa 'hot'.

Narcissa interrupted his musings – quite impolite of her, really, but it _was_ Narcissa – with a jab of her pointy elbow. "Well, goodnight to you too, Lucius," she said a little too sweetly for his taste, while Lucius held his side and huffed. One hand patted his head. "Sweet dreams."

"Mm, you too, Cissa," he grunted. Did he mention that pointy elbows to the side _hurt_? Argh.

Lucius rolled over on his side, listening to his wife's breathing eventually even in sleep. He had long gotten used to the darkness – it'd been eleven, almost twelve years since Greyback had mauled him, back in the Ministry of Magic, and ridden him of his sight – but it did get tedious and annoying at times. He sometimes wondered what his wife looked like now... What his grandchildren resembled. Hell, the last time he'd seen Megara, she'd been six – and now, she had already graduated from Hogwarts with honours, off at the Ministry as an Unspeakable, along with the honourable job Max had bestowed her with... But that was an entirely different matter.

He sighed, yawning. Perhaps it'd be time to let sleep claim him...

BANG!

In the doorway, Rachel watched Malfoy sit up straight, tense, and wake up his wife. She'd tried to find the light switches for the room, but it turned out there weren't any at all... Those damn wizards and their über-bizarre technology – if it could be called technology in the first place, Rachel thought, smirking.

Athena had convinced her to call it a day, back in America, and had come back for her in the next day, where she'd told Nico that she was going to visit her parents. That always worked... and it wasn't exactly bad, lying to Nico, if the outcome turned out better in the end, right?

"Who is it?" Malfoy called, his voice as hoarse and as lazy as she remembered from eleven years ago.

"Hello, Dude-Who-Hates-People," she shot, watching his wife light her wand. Huh – the wooden sticks had always fascinated her, as much as the immortal world still did. Much more interesting than her world, the boring, everyday world. "Hello, Mrs Malfoy."

Contrarily to her rude husband, Narcissa Malfoy had been perfectly decent to her, and so she hadn't attributed the woman a derogatory nickname.

Lucius' shoulders tensed. It was that busybody Yank Muggle, Dare! How dare – _no, don't you snicker at the pun_, he chided himself – she burst into his manor _again_? She had appeared about a year and a half after Di Angelo; needless to say, their first encounter hadn't gone well.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he snarled, quickly pulling his covers up to his chest. No, he mustn't be seen in his nightwear, even if it was a lowly Muggle – _especially_ if it was one! "I remember clearly telling you that my manor was off your limits, Muggle!"

Rachel shrugged. The old wizard didn't scare her at all – bonus, the damn goddess of wisdom and battle herself was invisible, behind her. "You haven't changed, Malfoy," she snickered, smirking. "Pleasure's all mine, yaddayada, but I need to tell you something."

"I don't-" Malfoy was interrupted by a whack from his wife. She turned to Rachel, apologetic. "I am sorry for my husband's behaviour, Miss Dare. What news do you bear, might I ask?"

The young woman quickly explained, and then finished with, "Would you care to help us, ma'am?"

Narcissa inclined her head, frowning. A war between demigods in America did not concern her and Lucius at all... However, Cassiopeia _did_ – she was Bellatrix's daughter, after all, and their niece. And after what Cassiopeia had done to her family... Narcissa closed her eyes; she didn't want to put her family in danger now, of all times. She had gone through a war with Lucius and Draco before; look at what had happened. Scorpius, in turn, was so young; how could you tell an innocent child that his life was in danger?

However, Narcissa was a better person than that – she couldn't let innocent people die, not after what she had seen in the wars. And by innocent people, Narcissa did not just mean the Muggles and the Mudbloods – she also thought of her Rosier side of the family, who had been assassinated by Aurors after her cousin Evan had been caught and exposed as a Death Eater. Only Evan's younger brother Jasper had managed to survive the ordeal, and even today, Narcissa did not know where he was; he had changed his identity, she supposed, to keep from being hunted down by the blasted Ministry.

"I will," she said, her blue eyes boring into the other's vivid green. Lucius' head swivelled to face her, his face wearing an indignant look. Before he could complain, the Dare Muggle interjected, "Shall we get going to the base, Mrs Malfoy?"

Lucius let out an exasperated sigh. "It's _midnight_, Narcissa," he complained.

"There are more important things than sleep, darling," Narcissa reminded him with a playful nudge that would hopefully melt his heart, and then she looked at Rachel. "Please give the two of us a minute, Miss Dare. We will join you in the hallway shortly."

Rachel Dare nodded once to the woman, closed the door behind her, and beamed at Athena.

"Phase one _almost_ complete," the redheaded former Oracle commented. "Now on to the base – where we'll see Max again, of course."

The grey-eyed goddess bowed her head. "Where I look forward to seeing my child again, too. Good work, Miss Dare."

* * *

**Um, yeah :P That was probably kinda confusing and/or crappy... **

**To recap: The relationship between the Romans and the Greeks has deteriorated since the whole Gaea ordeal. Right now, Camp Half-Blood is being taken over by Romans; kids are being kidnapped. Athena, who's watching, goes to Lupa and they make a pact. **

**Athena then seeks out Nico and Rachel, who are together. Nico gets angry, while Rachel accepts. **

**The next day, Lucius and Narcissa are about to go to bed when Rachel appears and asks for their help. Ignoring her husband, Narcissa agrees and tells Rachel that they will come with her and Athena to the base. **

**Next chapter: How well does Rose Weasley really plan? How annoying can two eleven-year-old boys really be? Is Al Potter a hypocrite? And what's up with Rachel now? **

**Oh, yeah. I also put up a collection of one-shots with characters that have appeared or will appear in this story called _Snapshots_. You can take a look at them, if you like :) **

**Lastly, please read and review, especially if you favourited/alerted! **


	11. Rose's Plan

Rose's Plan

"Right!" Scorpius and Al turned at the sound of Rose's cheery voice; in the last week, the smaller boy had taught everything there was to know about his cousin's moods to his best mate. Presently, Scorpius felt nothing but suspicion. He liked Rose; sure, she annoyed him silly on several occasions, but she was a good friend and had wicked ideas, like the one about the break-in. The cautious side of the boy warned to him; his adventurous Gryffindor side begged it to differ. It was subsequently his recklessness that won out; he wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign. "James gave me something to show you!"

Craning his neck toward the portrait hole curiously, Scorpius watched Rose skip inside. She unrolled what seemed to be a piece of yellowed parchment in front of them and then tapped her wand on its aged surface. Al gaped at it; Scorpius, though, was completely mystified. Had Rose Weasley finally gone bonkers? He was quite certain that trying to get something out of an old parchment was not an entirely sane action. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" the brown-haired girl said, watching the parchment expectantly.

"_What_ are you doing-" Scorpius tried to ask, but Al, surprisingly, shushed him. The short boy gestured to the parchment; reluctantly, Scorpius looked down. His grey eyes widened at what he saw: it was a fully detailed map of Hogwarts! "Where in Merlin's britches did you get this, Rose?"

Rose smirked. "Told you, James gave it to me."

"James got it from Dad," Al explained. He stroked the map with awed reverence. "It'd been enchanted by the Marauders." At Scorpius' blank look, he added, "You don't know about them? Well, they were four friends in school, in Gryffindor, of all places! In fact, they're heroes, here."

"Mm," Scorpius muttered. "Please _do_ continue."

"Their names were James Potter, who was my grandfather; Sirius Black; Peter Pettigrew, who later turned traitor; and Remus Lupin, who's Teddy Lupin's dad," Al paused. "Teddy Lupin is-"

"I _know_ who Teddy is," the blond boy interrupted, surprising his two best friends. Scorpius shrugged at their looks. "He's my Great-Aunt Andromeda's grandson, is what. Since Great-Aunt is Grandmother's sister, she visits each Christmas. Father can't forbid it, because Granddad is _technically_ still the head of our family, and he allows it. It's probably only because of Grandmother, though." He thought for a moment. "He's the one who taught me how to pick locks, Teddy."

"You can pick locks, too?" Al exclaimed, grinning. "_Wicked_!"

"Yeah, yeah," Rose said irritably, yawning widely. She stretched and stared at them with her grey blue eyes. "We'll have a locker-picker meeting _later_, mates. For now, we're going to plan." She gestured for Scorpius and Al to look at the Marauders' Map; they did so, following the spot her index finger pointed. "Here are McGonagall's quarters," Rose told them. "Near the Headmis – no, Headmaster's office, see."

"I've been asking round, you know," the girl continued. "Victoire can help us – and I'm pretty sure she'll bring Teddy. They can break curses we can't, and Teddy's an Auror in training, for Merlin's sake."

At the mention of the word Auror, Scorpius' eyes narrowed ever so subtly. He had been raised to despise Aurors, unlike the children of the 'good' side who had been taught that they were heroes, though Teddy clearly went against the standard image of a meddling, good-for-nothing, foolhardy Auror. "Yeah?" he said, raising a blond eyebrow. "And who else?"

Rose sighed dramatically, tilting her head back. "I dunno," she confessed, making Al snicker. Luckily for her cousin, she didn't hear it, and continued speaking. "I was thinking maybe Louis... Easy to convince and gullible, you know-"

Al smirked. "That makes you sound Slytherin."

"Well said, Al," Scorpius agreed, snickering. "Well said."

"_Shut up_," Rose hissed, her face and neck reddening. She looked at them with obvious annoyance, snapping, "Do you two prats have anything _useful_ to volunteer, besides your incessant verbal abuse of me?"

Al sniffed in mock offense. "Stop exaggerating, m'dear cousin."

"Aye, don't wind yourself up," his blond friend added. Before Rose could hex him, he quickly said, "Er, yeah... Well, Rose, I could ask my cousin. I mean, she's Slytherin, good at keeping secrets and all, but taking count of your prejudice of snakes..."

He trailed off, sneaking a smug look towards her.

Rose crossed her arms. "Cut me the flattering, will you? Merlin, I am _not_ fooled at all – I'm quite sure I'm _much_ more intelligent than that."

"Hey, but my cousin Alcmene could help," Scorpius replied, trying to mollify her. "_That_ wasn't flattery, not at all. I was one hundred percent honest, seriously!"

"Alcmene is good at keeping secrets," Al piped up. He blushed, thinking about Scorpius' pretty cousin. Perhaps in a few years he could ask her out... She was very good-looking, after all, and extremely friendly – unlike _some_ people he could name. "She'd be great in this, er, situation, Rose."

Rose studied the two of them, eyes narrowed, and then turned to Scorpius. "Why don't you go ask her, Scorp? I don't know her all that well, after all..."

The blond boy nodded, a smirk playing on his pale features. "I'll go talk to her tomorrow, maybe during lunchtime." He scratched the back of his head and looked over at Rose, grey eyes mischievous. "That's a yes, mm, Rose?"

She rolled her eyes, though Al, who was watching, detected a flush creeping up on her face yet again. Whether it was from Scorpius or residue colour from her earlier flushing, he couldn't say, but he would definitely question her on that tomorrow. "You are _so _arrogant, Malfoy."

"We're talking by surnames, now?" Scorpius scratched his chin. "Okay, whatever, Weasley." He flashed her a dashing smile that made her look away, perhaps not consciously on both counts, and flipped open his Potions textbook. "Al," the blond boy said, "You help me with this essay?"

Al was horrid at Potions, everyone knew that. For Scorpius' sake, he decided to play along – and also because he _adored_ annoying his dear cousin. "Sure, mate," Al said, squinting at the looped handwriting of the recently appointed Potions Mistress, Professor Hoffman, indicating the subject of the essay. "But say, Scorp, what _are_ the magical properties of Flobberworm Mucus in a Boil-Cure Potion?"

* * *

"In conclusion," Al cleared his throat and squinted at the cue card, "In conclusion, er... Yeah, in conclusion, even though a Mandrake's life cycle parallels that of a human being, they still remain, and will always... stay... dangerous."

He shot a begging look towards Mario Fortescue, the Hufflepuff he was paired up with, who finished with, "Thank you for listening to our presentation!"

There was a half-hearted applause from the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in the audience. Most of them weren't even listening, actually – Al spied Patricia reading _Witch Weekly_ behind the Herbology textbook, Louis and Darcy playing Hangman, Rose with her head on her desk, Scorpius and Caroline staring at the ceiling blankly, the Jordan twins tossing a Snitch to each other and Luke... was he asleep with drool at the corner of his mouth?

Neville, on the other hand, was busily taking notes of their presentation while dictating to another quill what to scribble at the same time. That certainly took skills, Al thought in passing, as the Professor motioned for the two boys to come over to his place at the end of the room.

"Good job, boys," Neville said pleasantly, nodding to each of them. Mario nodded in return and then shuffled back to the desk he shared with his fellow Hufflepuff, Mimosa Blishwick. Al lingered for a while longer.

"When are we going to get our marks, N – Professor?" he inquired, trying to sound casual. He winced at how absurdly _Rose_-like this was.

The Head of Gryffindor looked up from his grading papers and smiled, his brown eyes warm. "Well, I'm definitely busier than before because of the Headmaster duties and all, Albus," Neville always called him 'Albus' during classes and on school grounds, "but you and Rose and Mr Malfoy can be sure that you'll receive them back next week." Looking towards the front, he called, "Silence, please! Mr Bagman and Miss Macmillan, you're next. I would ask you to bring your grading grids to me, if you please."

Al meandered back to his desk and twisted round to look at Scorpius and Caroline. "How was my presentation?"

Scorpius coughed lightly, wincing slightly. "Er, it was... _quite_ fine, Al."

"I think you could have practiced a wee bit more," Caroline added in her sweet, soft voice, "but your content was all there, I think."

Al winced, shot a scowl towards Scorpius, and smiled gratefully at the Chinese girl. "Thanks, Caroline. It's nice to know that _some_ people have kind words for me, still."

"Hey," Scorpius protested meekly, rolling his eyes, "I had nothing but kind words for you, Al. You know that you're my best mate, git."

"There goes your verbal abuse again," Al muttered.

"That was _Rose's_ line," the blond boy said snidely. He motioned towards the front with a jut of his chin, his smugness evaporated. "Shut up, Al, if you don't want Longbottom to have your hide." Scorpius stared out of the window, gripping his quill tightly with his long fingers. "Though he would never do that to _you_," he muttered under his breath, though Al wasn't entirely sure if that was what he'd said.

Suffering through another few rounds of torturous presentations, Al grabbed his bag as soon as the bell rang, running for the door. "Wait!" called Rose's bossy voice.

"What?" Al said irritably, looking at her with a cocked eyebrow. "What'd you want?"

"I just thought of something." She dragged him over to a broom closet, pushed him roughly inside, and closed the door. "_Lumos_."

"Er, Rose, in case you didn't know," Al started, looking uncomfortable, "if you want to snog me, it'd be technically _kind of_ incest."

Rose threw up her hands. "You, Albus Potter, are hopeless! Bloody hell, I don't know which one of you is worse – you, or Scorpius! Seriously, what is it with blokes and their blatant idiocy..."

Quite relieved that his cousin wasn't attracted to him in _that_ way, Al interrupted her rambling, "I don't think you rudely dragged me into a broom closet just to have your standard rant on the uselessness of the male gender, Rose. What is it?"

She sighed, sounding like a martyr, which was quite far-fetched in Al's opinion. Rose Weasley could never be a martyr, really. Digging the Marauders' Map from her bookbag, she started, "You know Scorpius?"

"Yeah?" _How could I not? He's been our best mate for what – three weeks? Seriously, Rose! You call blokes idiots – then what are you, living under a rock? _

"Well, he's pretty good at drawing." Rose sighed, though Al could have sworn that it sounded like the swooning sounds the women in _Witching Hour_ on the WWN, a programme he had grown up listening to thanks to Mum and Grandmum Weasley. "I think it's best if we separate in two groups for the break-in. That's why I want Scorpius to draw the path to McGonagall's quarters. Can you tell him?"

"Okay." Al studied her and smirked. "But why can't you? You fancy him?"

Rose reddened. "I do not fancy him!" she snapped, slapping his face.

_Bloody hell, that'll leave a mark_, Al winced. "Whoa, calm down, Rosie," the black-haired boy said, holding up his hands in front of his chest. He grinned. "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul."

Her wand poked his cheek as she glared at him. "You'd better not, Albus Severus Potter."

Al grinned at her again and kicked open the door. "I don't want to be late for History of Magic, m'dear cousin."

He broke into a sprint, humming 'Do the Hippogriff' under his breath. Al smiled; he was going to have fun. Of course, _obviously_ he wouldn't keep his promise to Rose.

Perhaps his parents had been right, naming him for a Slytherin – because everyone knew that Slytherins were nothing but hypocrites.

* * *

"Give this to Scorpius – you know where to find him, Cato." A pale, long-fingered hand stroked the top of the hawk's brown-feathered head. Cato gave a fierce, screaming cry at that, his eyes half-closed. "If you come back with his reply, you know what you will receive. Now, go, Cato."

The figure watched the red-tailed hawk fly away and sighed, shifting in her spot at the windowsill. "Hopefully, little brother," she muttered, "your Gryffindor brain will be intelligent enough to process the content of my letter."

An accented voice from the doorway sounded at the moment. "Am I interrupting anything?"

She shook her head. "No, I was just sending a letter to my younger brother." Her gaze diverted to the window; Cato had already disappeared. Her little red-tailed hawk was a fast flyer, as she had discovered when she had bought him nearly eight years ago in Diagon Alley before her first year. Smiling slightly, she turned back to the other. "Have you heard from Nico yet?"

"Yeah." It sounded as if the red-haired woman facing her was speaking with her tongue twisted, in a sort – those Americans certainly had strange accents, Cato's owner mused. The American grimaced. "Nico's pretty pissed off. I think he's going to cool down at home for a few days-"

"Sulk, you mean?" The Brit sounded bored. "Men do tend to do that often, don't they? Quite bizarre, if you ask me..."

"-And then, he's going to come and get me, I guess." She smirked slightly at the thought of her boyfriend marching into the base and dragging her back home to New York. "Percy still hasn't been found."

"Perhaps he went back to his Roman friends?" The other suggested, lifting a blond eyebrow. Her new acquaintance – maybe even friend – had told her all about their adventures in America, adventures that she had heard of in the form of rumours through Max's friends at the base. It was a wholly different thing hearing the story from a person who had actually been there; like listening to war stories of Granddad's, actually.

"Maybe." The red-haired woman shrugged, sounding sceptical. "Annabeth and the kids are frantic. I, though, have a hunch that he's okay."

"Mm." _So I'll be able to keep some of my powers even after the Oracle's spirit is removed from my body. That's an interesting thought. _"I don't think he'll play a part in the prophecy."

"Only the three will."

"No," the younger woman shook her head. "You know, in Harry Potter's prophecy – highly respected mortal in the wizarding world, you might've heard of him from someone over here – there were _many_ implicated who were not mentioned. I was saying that I don't think that Percy will play a role in _all of that_."

"But Nico and I will."

"'Course. And a bunch of dead people, too, as well as a few individuals we know quite well, you and me." She smiled tightly. "That's hardly a cheerful topic, though. We'll face it when the time comes, Rachel. Until then, it's useless worrying."

"Hmph." Rachel the American stood up. "How about we have a snack in the cafeteria? Max will be there, I think, Megara."

Megara nodded. "Okay. Then, we can go speak with Snape's portrait in Max's office."

The two young women hurried out of the door, their chatter mixing with that of the hundreds of campers getting ready for bed.

* * *

**Finally, after all this time, there's more of the trio :) **

**The QAS: Thanks for reviewing! Hope your question about Rachel's non-maidenhood was answered in this chapter :) As for Lucius and Narcissa, I've been shipping and writing them for a long time now, so thank you :) And Athena and Lupa... Well, they'll appear again in a few chapters... Athena, at least. **

**Next chapter: Some Victoire/Teddy, arguing cousins, and a pessimistic!Al. In which they will make their way towards McGonagall's quarters. **

**Please read and review, especially if you favourited/alerted! :)**


	12. Towards McGonagall's Quarters

Towards McGonagall's Quarters

"Are you sure we're ready?" Al said doubtfully, his eyebrows knitting together. Somehow, Rose's ability to succumb to recklessness paralleled James' – and that was saying something. "I don't think that-"

He cast a glance towards Scorpius, who didn't seem to want to contest Rose – for some reason, the mental git actually thought that breaking into a kidnapped person's quarters when the kidnapper could be lurking round was a good idea! No chance with _him_ backing me up, Al thought sullenly, sulking.

Well, his stomach certainly churned with the possibility of everything that could go wrong. Rose called him pessimistic; he called himself intelligent. Seriously, what intelligent person broke into a teacher's quarters? Stupid, stupid, stupid friends of his, always dragging him into danger.

Rose drew herself up at that moment, scowling at him. She brushed a stray curl from her face and stated, "Well, Al, if you want to back out now, it's your choice. Me, I'm going to look for Teddy outside the common room. See you."

And she ran off, disappearing into the portrait hole.

"Mate, think of it this way: if we get caught, I'm expelled. Longbottom will surely forgive you, you being Harry Potter's son and all, Al," Scorpius told him.

Al sighed. "Don't you even _care_ if you're expelled?"

He shrugged. "I'm trying to bring some optimism into your life."

They were silent for a good moment. Scorpius tilted his head back and thought. It wasn't true, what he said about not caring; he did care about what his family thought. In fact, he probably cared too much, even. But he had disappointed his family his entire life; would an expelling from Hogwarts prove to his father that he wasn't fit to be an heir, especially to what had once been the throne of Malfoy?

Perhaps he would be disowned. Perhaps, Scorpius thought, he would have to move in with Great-Aunt Andromeda and Teddy. Perhaps Alcmene and Uncle Theodore and Aunt Daphne would take him in. Perhaps he'd have to become a commoner – no, strike that, he would be one.

No, Scorpius didn't enjoy being prejudiced against just because he was from a family of Death Eaters. No, he didn't particularly enjoy being picked on by stray Slytherins, being called a blood traitor. No, he didn't agree with any of the blood supremacy concepts his family had tried to implant in him.

But he would miss living a manor, if he were disowned. He would miss feeding the peacocks, walking in the gardens, exploring the attic. He would miss talking with the portraits and looking up books in Malfoy Manor's vast library. He would miss some of the house elves; he would miss his family, period.

Malfoys weren't taught to show love and care towards their children; Malfoys were taught to be warriors, essentially. They were taught to be strong and proud. Malfoy children were loved, yes, but Malfoy parents did not exactly tuck in their children and tell them that they loved them. It was something they _expected_ you to know instinctively.

Rose and Al, they had been raised in a family where each child was loved warmly, told so. They couldn't understand how it was to be a Malfoy, a last vestige in the crumbling Rome that was the pureblood way; even Alcmene couldn't understand, because she had been raised in a totally different way than her parents.

The only option for ears was confiding in his sister; and Scorpius would rather die than confess his fears to Megara.

And so, Scorpius Malfoy stood alone; Malfoys were also loners, after all.

* * *

A tall, skinny boy walked lazily towards the portrait hole and Rose, his hair dishevelled and his small piggy eyes bloodshot. "D'you know the password, Rose?"

"Who _are_ you?" was the girl's reply. "I've never seen you round before." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, have you been sent by the Slytherins?"

There was a chuckle. "You haven't lost your touch, I see." The figure advanced, seeming to get skinnier and skinnier as he approached Rose. Up close, there was no denying his identity with his trademark turquoise hair and sweet smile.

"Teddy!" Rose cried, throwing her arms around him. "I thought you'd have asked Victoire before coming here!"

He grinned at her, ruffling her curls. "Nah. That'd be too Slytherin-like for my taste." Teddy looked at her, winking, "Say, you seem to have gotten taller since I last saw you."

She rolled her eyes. "That was barely three weeks ago, Teddy."

"Well, you kids grow like beanstalks, I'll say." He scratched his chin, cocking his head. "You know, that Muggle tale – 'Jack and the Beanstalk'?"

"I preferred 'The Warlock's Hairy Heart'," Rose told him, "but I rather think we should be getting back inside."

"That violent one with the man who ripped out his heart? Er, _right_," Teddy nodded, and waved to the Fat Lady, who stared down at him. "Hello, ma'am. I'm here to visit my little cousins, see."

"Hmph." The portrait seemed to blush. "Fine for this time, Teddy Lupin."

The two of them climbed into the portrait hole. "I think the Fat Lady fancies you, Teddy," Rose said smugly. "Victoire's going to have some competition."

He stifled a laugh, shoving her playfully. "Sadly for the Fat Lady, I think that portrait-live people relationships are frowned upon, Rosie."

Rose hopped down from the portrait hole and walked over to Al and Scorpius, who had begun a game of wizard chess. "Clean it up," she demanded, as she watched Scorpius' knight get brutally pushed off the chessboard. "Look who's here."

Al jumped once he realised his elder brother-of-sorts was here. "Oh! Hullo, Teddy – thought you'd arrive with Victoire and Alcmene."

"Victoire has a Charms Club meeting tonight," Rose reminded her cousin. "She'll be back in about half an hour with Alcmene."

Teddy turned to Scorpius and smiled slightly. "Hey, Scorp," he said warmly, nodding to him, "Megara told me about you being here."

The blond boy's head bobbed up and down, though he seemed quite sullen. "She would have," Scorpius said darkly. "She never seems to know how to stop gossiping, does she?"

"Well, she doesn't seem too angry about your Sorting," Teddy pointed out gently. While he and Scorpius' sister were often at odds, Teddy and Scorpius had always gotten along quite well. The boy reminded him of himself sometimes; lost, with so many expectations piled upon his back. There was only so much strain a human being could take without crumbling; and again, Scorpius was stronger than most boys his age Teddy knew. Perhaps it was being raised by a pack of Slytherins; perhaps it was being raised with the old ways that hardly any purebloods abided by anymore. _Don't show weakness_, Gran had told Teddy some of them when he was younger, _do everything and anything to survive. A good pureblood girl always obeys her father; her responsibility is to bear her husband an heir. A good pureblood boy always obeys his father; his responsibility is to keep the line going, no matter what it takes._ "Don't be too hard on yourself."

Scorpius gave a non-committal grunt and turned back to Al, who had stood watching their interaction with wide eyes. "Your turn," the blond boy muttered, his eyes on the chessboard.

"So, Rosie?" Teddy asked his younger cousin, causing her to start. "What'd we do while we wait for Vic?"

She didn't hesitate; Rose always had good ideas, that one. Opening a drawer from one of the coffee tables of the Gryffindor common room, she took out a much-abused game of Gobstones. "Want to play?"

"Sure." Teddy was used to waiting, after all. He hadn't passed 'Patience' in his Auror training with flying colours for nothing, you know.

* * *

Alcmene stared at the map again, and then at her cousin. "Are you sure you copied this right, Scorp? We aren't supposed to be in front of Longbottom's office!"

He flushed, though the other couldn't tell in the darkness of the night – being out past curfew was definitely unsettling, Alcmene thought. The castle wasn't supposed to be this quiet; it was supposed to be bustling with sounds and sights. "I did," Scorpius shot back defensively. He crossed his arms. "Maybe you read it wrong."

Teddy stepped in. "Calm down, Ally," he said soothingly. It wouldn't do good to have the girl go at Scorpius; he had seen Alcmene Nott yelling at Scorpius silly once, when they were both seven, during a routine Christmas visit. It had been, in other words, messy. The Slytherin didn't get angry very often, but when she did, you'd better watch out for yourself. "I'm sure Scorp copied it right. Look, why don't _I _lead?"

Alcmene shot him a look, but obeyed.

In the Gryffindor common room, Teddy and Victoire had decided to each lead an 'unit'; Victoire would lead Rose and Al with the help of the Marauders' Map, and Teddy would lead Scorpius and Alcmene with the hand-drawn map, because he had spent quite a bit of his school years exploring the castle. The first unit to arrive would discreetly wait at the entrance of McGonagall's quarters for the other unit, and they would enter and investigate together.

And, most probably, assume the consequences, Teddy thought, something that obviously remained unsaid. Every one of them knew that; and every one of them had reasons to break into McGonagall's quarters, besides the standard recklessness.

Presently, though, Teddy scoured the map, illuminating it with his wandlight. "We go left," he said to none of the first years in particular. "And no more rows. Rowing in the hallways isn't the best option after curfew – trust me, I know."

The two cousins looked at each other with distaste and nodded, scurrying in his wake. Somehow, it was definitely easier to just submit to the oldest tonight.

* * *

"You're _finally_ here," Al said to the approaching unit in a whisper. If this kept going on, his voice was going to be permanently hoarse from constant whispering. "What took you so long?"

Teddy grinned sheepishly, lunging (or so it seemed) for Victoire. "Hey, Vic," he murmured huskily, taking her hand and snogging her face so hard Al felt nauseous. Did they really have to do that in front of them? "Missed you, baby."

"We were separated for hardly an hour, my horny little wolf pup," Victoire teased him, digging her fingers into his dishevelled hair and blushing. "Mm-"

The rest of her sentence was muffled by smooching noises.

Rose cleared her throat. Clearly, she was as uncomfortable as the rest of them; in fact, from the look on Teddy's face, it was quite plain that he wanted to rip off Victoire's clothes there and then, Al thought with a barely repressed shudder. Knowing that his quasi-brother and oldest cousin did it at their flat was one thing... But watching them – Merlin, was that gross!

"Er, I think we should get going," Rose said, shaking Al from his horrible visions. "You know, to open the door and investigate inside?"

Teddy jerked away from Victoire's grasp and blushed. "Oh. Yeah."

Victoire didn't look any less embarrassed. "Aye." Stepping forward, she pointed her wand at the wall. "_Specialis Revelio_," she murmured.

And like that, the wall began diverging to form a door.

* * *

**Favourite lines? Favourite characters? **

**Since I have a little time today, I decided to post two chapters. **

**Now, after the end of this break-in adventure, I think I'll be alternating between Trio POV and Others POV... Next up is breaking into McGonagall's quarters (you: _finally_!), with a surprising revelation about Rose. Then, we'll have the conclusion of sorts of to this little adventure. **

**By the time, thanks to miria for reviewing! **


	13. The Break In

The Break-In

The door was a regular door, really. A bit used, yes; but nothing Rose would have expected from Professor McGonagall.

Perhaps she had been expecting it to be more, say, majestic; perhaps she had been expecting no door at all. Anyhow, it shocked Rose that the former Headmistress was, indeed, definitely human.

"Move," Al muttered to her, as Victoire and Teddy took off the various charms that guarded the place. They'd set off alarms as well, but none of them knew it just yet. "Don't just stand there gaping."

It angered her, hearing him order her about in contempt. Rose was nothing if not territorial: how dare Al treat her like a measly follower! Her nostrils flaring, her nose held high, she said, "Fine. As if you're any better yourself, Mini-Snape."

"Don't call me Mini-Snape!"

"Shut up," Scorpius snapped to the both of them. He sounded impatient and, perhaps, a bit worried. "You'll summon Longbottom. We have to get in quickly. Teddy, can you seal it back to its initial state?"

"Well, it doesn't look as if I have a choice," the half-werewolf said grimly, shaking his head. He had a hunch this was going to go horribly wrong. "Run in, now. Vic and I will figure something out. Go."

McGonagall's quarters smelled musty, as if it hadn't been opened in weeks; naturally, Rose thought, shaking her head at her own blatant stupidity. The entrance led to a narrow cobblestoned corridor; there were three other doors at its end.

"Which one do we go in?" Alcmene inquired. "Or should we wait for Teddy and Victoire to finish their curse-breaking?"

Rose had never been one for waiting. Shaking her head, she said, "Alcmene, I'll go into the first door with Scorpius. You and Al wait outside, okay?"

The Slytherin didn't look convinced. "There might be traps inside, Rose. We should really wait for them. What's the harm in that?"

She sighed. "We could get caught quicker if we just stay here!" Squaring her shoulders, Rose tossed her hair and said, "Well, I'm going in!"

"We'll be okay," Scorpius reassured his cousin, putting a hand on Alcmene's arm. "I'll go after her, to make sure she shan't be killed."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm not that fragile."

"Nah, you aren't," the blond boy agreed with a well-placed smirk as he followed her inside, "but you are very reckless, bordering on stupidity."

Restraining herself from slapping him, Rose huffily let him inside.

The bedroom they stumbled upon was, most clearly, where McGonagall had slept before she had been taken. A thick layer of dust had settled on the four-poster bed in the corner of the room; the wardrobe door had been left half-open. A few dozens of photographs of the staff were hung on the room's every wall; Rose stepped closer to one of them, which was of this year.

McGonagall stood in the centre, looking regal in her rich emerald robes. She was surrounded by the four Heads of House of then: Neville for Gryffindor, Slughorn for Slytherin, Despard for Hufflepuff, and Prince for Ravenclaw. A dark-skinned woman with beads in her hair smiled tightly over Slughorn's shoulder; Madam Hooch, the flight instructor, had her whistle in her mouth. Filch held his cats against his chest tightly; Eclipse seemed as standoffish as ever, stifling a yawn every now and then.

The people in the photograph looked so, well, happy; it was hard to believe that a while later, one of them would be dead and another missing. It was hard to believe that Filch would actually go bad enough to get arrested and shipped off to Azkaban. This photograph was the calm before the storm, Rose realised.

A tug of her sleeve interrupted Rose's musings, making her whip round. "What?" she asked, annoyed, while Scorpius merely jutted his chin in the direction of one wall in particular, which was splattered with blood.

There was a grey skull there, floating almost protectively over the slightly dusty brown blood. It looked horribly familiar, though it was missing something Rose couldn't presently place. Over it were the words: _Dominus_ _Hades Irrevocabiliter Dominatur_.

_Lord Hades Irrevocably Rules. _

The words rang in her mind, making Rose frown in confusion. It was in some language – Latin, most likely – and she could read it clear as day! How could that be? Rose didn't know Latin; shaking her head slowly, she made a mental note to ask her mum about it when she saw her during the holidays.

"Bloody hell," Rose muttered, looking at the skull. "It looks like a-"

"Dark Mark," Scorpius finished quietly. He approached the grey skull, pointing at its mouth. "It's just missing the snake, over there. Eerie thing, isn't it?"

"Everyone's worst wear, that was how Granddad Weasley described it," Rose agreed, nodding. "And you know this is a Dark Mark why - ? From your – your family?"

"Where else?" Scorpius shrugged. "Your granddad's probably right, though my granddad would have said something like 'Ah, the Dark Lord's symbol. Made those lowlifes run, it did.'"

Rose wasn't too sure she wanted to know Scorpius' grandfather. Tapping his shoulder and clearing her throat, she said, "Hey, let's investigate now. Wands drawn, okay?"

"Yeah." Scorpius gripped his wand tightly, his grey eyes scanning the room. "Stay close to me, though, Rose. If I die, you die."

"Very funny," she grumbled, though she did as he had said.

Scorpius poked the half-open door of the wardrobe cautiously. "I want to see if there's anything inside. Remember, the Stunner or the Body-Bind Curse."

Rose nodded, positively quivering with anticipation as she regarded the wardrobe with her grey blue eyes.

The blond boy shrugged and opened the door brusquely.

Immediately, a shadow jumped out. And Rose's mouth curled into a shocked scream as she recognized it.

* * *

"_Rose." The tall red-haired man's brown eyes posed on his eight-year-old niece, who was currently examining a love potion in the making. "Rosie, your dad's going to be here soon. He won't be happy if he finds out that I've been entertaining you in the lab." _

"_I don't care," Rose pouted at him, giving him puppy eyes. "Please, Uncle George! I'll be your slave! I'll do anything! Please, I wanna learn how to make this love potion so I can – well – give it to Al or Hugo or someone!" _

_George sighed wearily, running a hand through his flaming red hair. The girl was so bloody stubborn – oh, exactly like Ginny! And those big blue eyes – George silently cursed Ron for getting Hermione pregnant in the first place. What male could resist those puppy eyes, bloody hell? _

"_One more minute." He turned his back again, focusing on the firework he was currently conceiving. George hated making fireworks – Fred had been good with that type of thing, and with the riots with the upcoming May 2__nd__, anniversary of the end of the Second Wizarding War, Ron had more than his hands full at work. "Maybe I consider changing the fuel type?" he muttered to himself, turning over the future firework. _

_Rose, meanwhile, had gone back to the love potion, watching with fascinating as it stirred itself. A vial containing a reddish liquid caught her eye at that moment, perched on the top shelf. Dropping to her knees to pick up a stool, she reached for the vial. _

"_So bloody high," she said under her breath. "Merlin's arse!" _

_Smirking at what her mother would say if Hermione heard, her hand pushed the vial a bit closer, effectively prompting it to fall. _

_Rose tried to duck for cover, but it was too late. The vial of reddish liquid shattered on the white canvas that was Rose's forearm, cutting through the skin. The young girl closed her eyes, crying out in pain. _

"_Uncle George! Uncle George!" _

_George had already turned around. Swiftly, he vanished as much broken pieces of glass he could and examined Rose's forearm. It didn't look good; George bit his lip. Several large purple bruises were already forming on the pale skin of his niece, and he didn't need to be a Healer to realise that she needed medical attention right away. _

"_Don't worry, Rosie," he tried to soothe her, holding her against his chest. "_Expecto patronum_," George muttered, deciding to send a Patronus-message to his family members. It was the quickest way, after all. "C'mon, I'll bring you to St. Mungo's. Stay strong, my little lioness." _

"_It's 'tigress'," Rose corrected, sniffling, as he carried her through the hordes of staring customers in the store. Verity, who was at the cash register, rushed to George, but he held up a finger. "Later," he mouthed. She nodded, returning to the client in front of her. _

_George brought his niece outside into the bright Diagon Alley sunshine and Disapparated. _

* * *

"Scorpius, it's okay," Victoire patted the boy's arm. Poor kid, she thought. "It was just a Boggart. Next time, remember: the incantation's _Riddikulus_. Think of something funny to associate with your worst fear, and you'll be more than okay."

She paused, rolling up Rose's sleeve to hold up the pinkish spots on her arm. "This is why you saw the vial as her Boggart," the girl explained. Scorpius quickly jerked his head away from the sight, as if he were afraid he would be caught staring. "It was centaur blood, you know. Centaurs are known to be mythical, vague, their sayings dreamy-like: that's why their blood is used in love potions." At Alcmene and Al's disgusted looks, Victoire chuckled. "Yes, not many know that. Or else I doubt that Uncle George's love potions would be as effective."

"Then why the marks?" Scorpius spoke up, still looking away pointedly.

If Teddy noticed that of his younger second cousin, he didn't comment on it. "Centaur blood is also cursed. If they are a known component in romance synthesisers, Scorpius, centaurs represent bestiality as well."

"So she's a beast – kind of?" Alcmene piped up timidly. "And why don't the people who drink love potions get infected like that, too?"

"No, she's not a beast." Teddy looked thoughtful. "The blood in the potions was diluted in other components, like the werewolf blood in, say, Wolfsbane Potion. But in Rose's case, it was centaur blood into her bloodstream, pure and simple, when the vial shattered on her arm. Centaur blood doesn't 'agree' with human blood, Alcmene; what happened to Rose was like an allergic reaction. Luckily, it was only a small quantity; a slightly larger one would have been fatal to her."

"But blood fuses together, infected or not," Victoire continued from where her boyfriend had left. "The centaur blood cells could emerge one day, mind, and make her sick. So far, though, Rose seems healthy enough. We hope she stays so."

_Aye_, Al agreed internally. He and Rose were often at odds, yes, but he loved her and she loved him, he was in no doubt; not that the boy would ever admit that in public, though. Admitting that at the age of eleven was equal to a death sentence in the boy's mind.

By that time, Rose had already begun stirring. Teddy looked down fondly at his younger cousin for a moment, and then said, "Mates, did you find anything worth reporting here? I sense that our time is running out."

Scorpius nodded, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. "_Filch_," he read Cassiopeia's swirly handwriting, "_You know the blood traitor Slughorn, do you not? I want you to subtly show him the pleasures of the use of __Protego Reverso__. Do not disappoint me. C._" Looking up, the blond boy said, "How could Cassiopeia leave this lying about? I had thought she would be more, ah, intelligent..."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Teddy responded gravely, "even those who are not human. That much is taught in Auror training."

"He means that everyone has weaknesses," Victoire playfully slapped her boyfriend. "Not everyone here understands Auror language, Teddy."

Teddy tensed suddenly, jerking his head towards the door. When Victoire turned back to him, he and Scorpius had already disappeared. "What in Merlin's baggy Y-fronts?" she muttered, grumbling against her prat boyfriend. Why hadn't he waited for her and the other kids?

"What in Merlin's baggy Y-fronts, indeed," said a familiar voice, and suddenly there was another light shining upon the guilty in McGonagall's bedroom. The Headmaster, Neville, looked at them, his brown eyes disapproving and deeply disappointed. Suddenly, Victoire felt ashamed that she had even accepted the proposition from the children. Rose was reckless, everyone knew that! And where was Teddy?

"What the hell are you all doing here?" Neville growled, pointing his wand at every one of them. When none of them answered, he turned to Victoire and snapped, "Miss Weasley, I confess myself surprised. As for the rest of you... Follow me to my office, the lot of you. You'll be lucky if you're not suspended."

* * *

**Cliffie! I wonder what happened to Teddy and Scorpius? **

**Next post: Two next chapters, maybe next weekend :) **

**Please read and review, especially if you favourited/alerted! **


	14. Godly Help

**Right, so first of all, I am so sorry for not updating in ages - school was extremely busy, I was working on projects left and right, and when I actually had time, I was too lazy to post anything :P But, anyways, apologies aside, I do hope everyone's holiday season is awesome so far (isn't it crazy how close we are to 2012? :O) and that everyone enjoys this chapter!**

**The QAS: I completely understand, as you've probably noticed from my rant in the above note :D Thanks for the compliments, and I understand about Rose being a bit OOC - but we all have our weaknesses sometimes, I bet, so let's just forgive her just this once :D Also, thanks for the comments about Rachel and Megara, I'll try to remember that so I can explain in later chapters :D Anyways, overall, happy holidays! **

**JGS39: Yep, they are! That's actually what the story's about, mostly :D Thanks for the review, and happy holidays! **

* * *

Godly Help

When Teddy Lupin had seen the tunnel appear, he hadn't thought twice and had plunged inside, closely followed by Scorpius. It appeared that the two of them were the only ones who could see the tunnel, for some obscure reason, luckily for them.

Now, Teddy wasn't so sure. The tunnel led up to a dead end, where the rest of the passageway was in a sort of well at least five or six feet from their current spot. The young man turned to his cousin. "Are you sure we should - ?"

The Malfoys would have his hide if he managed to kill off their only heir, that was for sure. And Teddy really wasn't in the mood to have three angry Malfoy women and two very pissed-off Malfoy men on his back; he shivered at the prospect. Malfoys were, in general, _very_ good at holding grudges and making non-hollow threats.

Scorpius nodded. "Why don't you use a Cushioning Charm?"

A Cushioning Charm! Teddy hit the side of his head, cursing his own stupidity. How was he to become an Auror when his eleven-year-old cousin could think quicker in perilous situations than him? "Okay. Why don't you go first? I'll cast it on you."

Taking a deep breath, Scorpius tucked his wand into robes' pocket and jumped. "Don't forget!" he shouted, free-falling.

"_Arresto Momentum_!" Teddy pointed his wand at the young Malfoy's slender frame and then smiled, satisfied. "Great."

Scorpius had landed safely on his bottom and gave Teddy a thumbs-up. "It's actually wicked, Teddy, if you think about it," he remarked, grinning. "I should jump into wells more often."

"Call me when you're out of the loony bin," Teddy muttered, before jumping himself. Caught in the momentum, he didn't notice that his wand had slid from his fingers until it'd been too late. His leg twisted in the wrong direction under his entire body's weight. "Fuck!"

"Indeed," Scorpius agreed soberly, though the boy was panicking inwardly. Grimacing at the sight of Teddy's twisted leg and the memory of the sickening crunch that had accompanied the break, he said, "Can you heal it?"

Teddy grimaced, catching the wand Scorpius tossed him. "_Ferula_," he said feebly. Scorpius caught the wooden rod and bandages he conjured with the spell, awaiting his cousin's instructions.

"Straighten my leg," Teddy ordered weakly, "with the wooden rod. Then you can tie the bandages to it." He leaned back, his eyes half-closed. "Don't mind me if I cry out. It's supposed to hurt mildly. Binding bones is no small business."

"Mm," Scorpius murmured, taking hold of the wooden rod. He kneeled beside his cousin, about to set Teddy's twisted leg, when the smell of a strong perfume wafted through his nostrils. He looked at Teddy with his eyebrows raised. He wasn't aware that Teddy was, possibly, a cross-dresser. "Is that your - ?"

Teddy shook his head vehemently. "I thought it was you," he said, chuckling darkly. "So it's - ?"

"Me," said a female voice, making both of them jump. Scorpius turned, his grey eyes surveying the room. Were they imagining things?

No, they were not. Scorpius nearly jumped again when his eyes found the visitor: a beautiful woman with long, lush chocolate brown hair and eyes that shifted from green to grey to brown to gold and blue; she wore a fashionable set of dress robes Astoria would have worn. The woman smiled at both him and Teddy, making the cousins blush to the roots of their hair in unison.

"Hello, my legacies," she said in a voice like a breeze, mesmerizing Scorpius so that he didn't even try to make sense of the words that accompanied her brilliant voice. The eleven-year-old boy thought that he could listen to her voice for days at an end. As she drifted closer, he caught sight of the fan she held, similar to the ones that the Chinese witches that he had once seen at the Ministry carried. From it, Scorpius could smell his mother's perfume and new quills and a box of freshly sharpened pencils; he also distinguished the smell of the fires in the Gryffindor common room and green apples.

It seemed that the same thing was happening to Teddy. Blinking several times, Scorpius noticed that the Metamorphagus' hair colour was changing rapidly, along with his facial features, which blurred together to the blond boy. "Who are you?"

The woman laughed; the sound was so wonderful that it made Scorpius and Teddy laugh along with her. "I am your great-great-great grandmother," she said breezily. "There is more to it, of course, but I cannot tell you. Athena's orders."

The infatuated boy and man finally realised that something peculiar was up. Scorpius asked, "Athena? Like the goddess?"

"I'm probably mad," the woman said vaguely. She waved a hand dismissively and gestured to Teddy's bad leg. "Boys, we should focus on the prioritizing task, which is fixing Theodore's leg."

"Of course," the man and the boy chimed in unison, completely unaffected by the vague statement that the woman might be, in fact, mad.

Instead of brandishing a wand as Scorpius would have expected, the woman simply laid her hand on Teddy's injury. "I am not as good as Asclepius, of course," she confided to the cousins, "but I am talented, you must admit."

"Yes, of course," Teddy and Scorpius said obediently.

"Your leg is completely healed now." The woman stood up. "I need to leave now, my legacies. It was a pleasure meeting the two of you – you are both very charming young men." She winked at them, making Teddy and Scorpius shiver. "Goodbye. Don't forget to speak with the child of Wisdom."

"What?" Teddy grunted out, receiving no reply. Scorpius stared at the spot where the beautiful woman had been a moment ago – she appeared to have vanished from thin air. Peculiar.

"That was certainly something," Scorpius commented to his elder. "Say, Teddy, how's the leg?"

Teddy shook it. "As good as anything," he said in awe. "It's as if my leg had never been broken in the first place. Blimey, Scorpius... It's as if she'd been a bloody goddess, for Merlin's sake."

"Who do you think is the child of Wisdom?" the blond boy asked. "Or do you think she was just raving mad?"

Teddy shook his head. "She was barking mad, perhaps, but she was definitely something. I won't forget her anytime soon, that's for sure."

Scorpius smirked. "Don't let Victoire hear you say that."

"Well said, Scorp." Teddy laid a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get out of here. Maybe if we follow this path..."

* * *

Breathing heavily, Neville turned to Victoire. "As for you, Miss Weasley, I will have to demote you from your prefect's position. I am sorry, you must understand, but this – this is very serious, what you have done."

Victoire nodded, staring at her lap. "I understand, Professor Longbottom," she said softly. Al watched all of this with the heavy feeling that he was next, he and Rose; Neville had already admonished both Victoire and Alcmene, demoting the former and suspending the latter. For the umpteenth time, Al cursed his cousin and recklessness in general: why, why, why?

Al's gut feeling was right, of course, although Neville's brown eyes chose to pose on Rose instead of him. "As I have understood, Miss Weasley," he said evenly, "It is you was the, ah, mastermind behind this whole operation. Am I right, Rose?"

"Yes," Rose said, not sounding guilty at all, "Yes, sir, you're right."

Neville threw up his hands, seeming to be quite pissed off by her nonchalant attitude. "Rose, what were you thinking of? You have your mum's brains, everyone says so; why don't you think for once? Your mother would have never-"

"I'm not my mother!" Rose snapped, crossing her arms and glaring defiantly at the Headmaster. "For one, my birth name is Weasley, not Granger. Secondly-"

"Miss Weasley, there's a time and place for a smart mouth, and it isn't in the Headmaster's office," said a smooth drawl. The students and the teacher's heads turned to look at the speaker, a portrait of a man with greasy black hair who wore black robes. At Neville's annoyed look, he sneered. "Forgive me for my little, ah, interruption, _Headmaster_ Longbottom."

Neville bristled and scowled at the portrait. "Not now, Snape! Can't you see I'm-"

Rose's eyes widened. So this was Snape's portrait that Al spoke of so lowly! Just to be sure, she called, "Are you Professor Snape?"

"Who else would he be, Miss Weasley?" said another portrait, an aged wizard with a rather generous beard and twinkling blue eyes. He stuck a lolly into his mouth. "Mm, a rarity – pineapple. Delicious, I must say, delicious."

"Dumbledore," Rose heard Al murmur.

"Sweet-gobbling fiend," Snape's portrait muttered darkly, glowering at Dumbledore. He shifted in his chair, smoothing his black robes, and stared unblinkingly at the students and the Headmaster. "My, my, Longbottom and brats: please continue. Watching dunderheads get punished is a pastime of mine."

"Your only pastime, probably," Al muttered. "Seriously, get a life."

"Oh, I would if I could," Snape retorted, giving the boy the Evil Eye. "Ah, you again, Potter! I must say, the Potter genes – I don't believe that your imbecile of a father went a day without getting into trouble. Damn Gryffindors."

"As I was saying, Miss Weasley," Neville said over the portrait's voice, "You will be suspended for two weeks." He turned to Al, who shrunk farther into his chair. "Same goes for you, Mr Potter. I am highly disappointed in you, as you may know. Owls have already been sent to your parents, all of yours'."

His brown eyes shifted through each of them in turn. "You will return to your dormitories immediately," he said in a voice that breached all argument. "All of you. Dismissed."

As soon as the students had left, Neville collapsed into the Headmaster's chairs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bollocks," he muttered, wiping the sweat breaking out on his forehead with a hanky, "Being Headmaster... Not the most pleasurable experience."

The sound of footsteps made him go tense immediately. Turning in his chair, his jaw dropped as he caught sight of the two trespassers who stared at him in turn. Neville got up slowly, walking towards the intruders with a deep frown.

"Mr Lupin," he said curtly as he recognized one of them. The other stared at him with grey eyes, the same pale eyes that belonged to the blond boy who had made Neville miserable during his school years. Neville glowered at him. "And Mr Malfoy... I should have known. Take a seat, the two of you. And kindly explain your presence in my office at this time of the night."

* * *

"I do not know why you went," an olive-skinned woman in a toga growled, pointing her tightly-gripped sword at a taller woman. Although the two of them were both sufficiently attractive, clearly only the taller woman could be called beautiful. "Did we not make a pact? Did I not say that I was going to watch over my legacy?"

"The Malfoy boy is _my_ legacy as well as Lupin," the beautiful woman pointed out, nonchalantly examining her perfectly manicured nails. She seemed oblivious to the silver blade the other was threatening her with. "I don't let my great-great-great – well, great-something children get hurt, Nemesis."

"I sense disrespect," Nemesis bared her teeth, her miniature scale earrings jingling. The sword's blade dug a bit closer to the other's skin. "While your pathetic pea of a brain may not understand the concept of honour, Aphrodite, it means a great deal to me. You know what happens to those who breach my code of honour, do you not?"

Aphrodite finally looked up from her nails and gulped at the sight of the blade. "I'm – I'm sorry, Nemesis, there was honestly no disrespect intended! I was just protecting Lupin and the Malfoy boy – forgive me!"

"Hmph." Nemesis loosened her grip on the sword a little, watching the goddess squirm with perverse pleasure. "And what about Lupin, hmm, Aphrodite? Lupa told us, on the first day of employment, where our loyalties lay with werewolves, in case you had forgotten, you imbecile."

"It wasn't my fault that my legacy mated with a _werewolf_!" Aphrodite wailed, annoying Nemesis to no end. "And I'm _not_ an imbecile!"

Just as Nemesis was about to poke at Aphrodite for real, the door of the temple opened, revealing an all-business Athena, closely followed by Artemis and two or three of her Hunters. "Who's an imbecile?" Thalia Grace inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Her." Nemesis pointed an accusing finger at the goddess of love and lowered her sword. She bowed her head at Athena, and then at Artemis. "Greetings, sisters."

"Greetings," Artemis said in reply. She turned to Thalia and her comrade Phoebe. "You two, I want you to watch the man outside. I will join you shortly, Hunters."

"Yes, my Lady," the Hunters murmured, hurrying out of sight.

Athena gave Nemesis and Aphrodite stern looks. When she had recruited them, she had specifically told them to work together – not kill each other, for goodness's sake! "What were you rowing about, sisters?"

"Small personal differences," Nemesis muttered. "We will not row in the future, Athena, I am sorry." She elbowed Aphrodite, who had taken out a pocket makeup kit. "Say something, idiot," Nemesis hissed.

"I'm sorry, too," Aphrodite yelped out, catching her lipstick before it fell to the ground. "We'll – I'll – be good in the future!"

Athena sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"Who's the man outside?" Aphrodite demanded Artemis. "Is he dangerous? No, wait – is he _cute_, Artemis? _Is he_?"

_Typical Aphrodite._ "This is not a dating convention, Aphrodite," Artemis said wearily. "But yes, I guess you could say that – the man isn't hideous-looking, at least."

"Who is he?" Nemesis inquired.

"A child of Hades – a quite famous one, might I add." Artemis tilted her head to look at the two other women. "His sister was a good, loyal Hunter for a bout of time. Nico di Angelo is outside, demanding that we tell him whatever has happened to his mortal girlfriend – well, obscenities aside, that is."

* * *

**So, what does everyone think about poor Teddy and Scorpius? Aphrodite, Nemesis, Athena, Artemis? Neville, Snape, and, of course, the sharp-tongued Rose (hmm, not so smart, lashing out at the Headmaster, though)? **

**Since the next chapter's been written since the first week of November or so, I think I'm going to post it tonight, so watch out for the rest! :D **

**Please read and review, especially if you favourite/alert!**


	15. Here and Elsewhere

Here and Elsewhere

Draco looked down at Longbottom, his nose in the air. He wasn't his father, nor would he ever want to be; but he had to admit that his father's condescending look was quite effective at times. Unfortunately, Draco's mind was muddled; it had been a long time since he had really looked at his father's face during one of those times. Should he narrow his eyes, or peer at Longbottom with them half closed? Should he arch an eyebrow, or raise both of them?

Appraising the Herbology Professor once more, he sneered and said firmly, "You are not expelling Scorpius, Longbottom. I won't allow you to do so."

Longbottom raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. "What can you do to stop me, Malfoy? Nothing. Your days as my superior are over, do you hear me? I'm Headmaster now. This isn't like before, when your daddy could just spend a glorious sum of money and bribe the Ministry with it, Malfoy. Say, how_ is_ your daddy these days?"

Draco glowered. "Fine," he said haughtily, sneering. "So tell me, Longbottom – how_ is_ society these days? Since you know so much about reality, I must say: please humour me."

"I, unlike you, don't have all the time in the world," Longbottom growled.

Draco smirked. "Bit behind the times, are we not? In case you'd forgotten, Longbottom, I have a job at the Ministry. International Cooperation, for your information." He smoothed his brown travelling cloak. "Now, Longbottom, you haven't yet answered my previous question."

"Damn you Slytherins," the Headmaster muttered. He looked at Draco, barking, "_Fine_! If you want to know, in our society, we try to promote equality. Has that bigoted brain of yours absorbed all of that, or am I forced to continue?"

"_Ah_, Longbottom, don't you raise your blood pressure for me," Draco drawled. "So if society is, nowadays, based off on equality, I must say: Scorpius' friends, Potter and Weasley, got away with two weeks of suspension. Same for Alcmene. Why should my son be the only first year to be expelled?"

"Malfoy-"

"You accuse _me_ of being bigoted?" Draco sneered. "Sorry to tell you, Longbottom, but you are as equally prejudiced as I am. I know you dislike Scorpius. I know he's my son. I know he's not the most behaving child, but he does not and never will deserve expulsion."

Longbottom continued glowering at him.

"If equality is an important component in 2017's wizarding society, Longbottom," the pale man continued, "then you will suspend my son for two weeks. You will not expel him. I am not leaving this room until this matter is settled."

Leaning back in his chair, Draco crossed his arms victoriously and smirked.

"_Fine_," Longbottom said after about a minute's thought. He glared at Draco, his tone icy. "I did not know that you cared so for your son, Malfoy. I was under the impression that you didn't."

The tall man stood up, his travelling cloak billowing round his ankles. His grey eyes pierced Longbottom's brown. "Just because my way of life and my beliefs are different than yours doesn't mean that I do not care for my son, Longbottom. Same as just because I was a Death Eater doesn't automatically mean I am a monster."

Draco looked back one last time before he traversed the doorway. "Goodbye, Longbottom," he said curtly.

Longbottom didn't answer. He shut the door after Draco Malfoy had left and wondered briefly if the bigoted wizard was, in fact, right.

* * *

"Rachel, what the hell were you thinking?" Nico stomped into the room and flopped into a divan. At Megara's stare, he demanded, "What do _you_ want?"

Megara smirked and craned her neck to look at Rachel. "Your boyfriend is _so_ impolite." She stuck out a pale hand. "Hello, I'm Megara Malfoy. You are Nico di Angelo, I presume?"

"Hmm, yeah," Nico grunted, shaking it. He turned back to Rachel. "_Well_?"

The young woman arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Don't play coy with me, Dare," the son of Hades grunted. "You run off; no one knows where you went; Athena refuses to tell me; I had to conjure about a dozen of ghosts to finally find one who knew!"

"Wah, _wah_," Rachel said noncommittally. "Nico, can't you see? There's. A. Freaking. War. Coming! We have to choose sides – and something tells me we shouldn't go with Chiron." When Nico opened his mouth to retort, she continued, "We were friends with the Romans before, weren't we? We can be again." Tilting her head, Rachel added, "And have you forgotten about Hazel?"

"Hazel's different," Nico snapped, tensing. "She's my _sister_, for Hades' sake, Rach."

"Mm." Rachel played with her pink-framed sunglasses. "What about Frank, eh? He is her husband, after all, and their kids-"

Nico threw up his hands and glowered. "Well, Frank is my brother-in-law and Em and Jase are my niece and nephew!" Huffing, he conceded, "And have you forgotten about Lupa's troops kidnapping the kids at Camp Half-Blood? Yes, I know, I was ambassador of Pluto at Camp Jupiter – but kidnapping and possibly killing innocent children? That crosses the line!"

Megara watched the couple's exchange with apparent amusement, her grey eyes darting to and fro Nico and Rachel.

"War isn't fair, Nico," Rachel retorted. "Remember the war? We all did things we're not proud of..."

"Yeah, says the girl who flew into a monster-infested New York during her summer vacation," Nico muttered. He looked at her with his dark eyes. "Look, Rachel, I understand where you're getting to. And..." The last sentence came out in a quick mumble. "MaybeIwaswronglasttimeIsawyou."

Smirking, Rachel patted his dark head. "Thatta boy, Nico, you're getting there," she said in a condescending tone. "What're you suggesting, then?"

Nico opened his mouth to answer, but Megara beat him to it. "I think he's suggesting you two become double agents."

"Never asked _you_ to talk," the son of Hades said under his breath, looking most sullen. He scratched at his neck, his pale face colouring, searching for the right words. "Yeah, Rachel, I was saying... Well, maybe I was a bit rash in hating the Romans. I mean, I was friends with most of them... And they did save me from a kidnapping." Nico thought for a moment. "Yep, saved me from a kidnapping which sucked."

"Your point?" Rachel asked, while Megara yawned and peered at her nails.

Nico held up a hand while glaring at Megara. "What _she _said. That way, we won't be betraying Chiron completely, _and_ we'll still be able to save America from my evil sister's megalomania."

The redhead nodded. "I'm sure Chiron will understand, but Lupa..." She winced. "Romans are big on honour. If she finds out, we're screwed."

"Then we make sure she doesn't find out. You have to admit, Rach, I'm freaking awesome at keeping secrets. Might be that I'm a son of Hades, probably." Nico smirked. "So we all agree?"

"Yep." Rachel conceded, nodding.

Megara looked at the two of them lazily. "So everything's alright now. Hmm, are the two of you against crashing the party downstairs? A few Romans are there, including our favourite augur and his family..."

* * *

YThe streets of Salem, Massachusetts were as crowded as they had ever been, to Jasper Saylor's knowledge. Salem was the capital of the American wizarding world, as London was in Great Britain; thinking nostalgically about how the streets in Salem reminded him of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, which he hadn't seen since he'd been sixteen, Jasper sighed and ambled towards _The Winged Crup_. A bell jingled overhead as the grey-haired man entered the bar.

"Hey! Saylor, is it?" the bartender yelled, his bearded face splitting into a wide grin. "Long time no see, bud – didn't know yeh'd be in the parish! Back from Birmingham and all already?"

"Aye, just been back from a short detour in Ottawa to see Pearl and the kids," Jasper replied, bowing his head. His only son had died on Auror duty a few years back, and now his eldest grandson Ben had succumbed to complications due to hypothermia. His poor daughter-in-law was left to raise her remaining sons, the young Andrew and Quinn. Dumping a few Jobberknolls on the counter, he shrugged at the barman's raised eyebrows. "That's all I got, Sam, I'm sorry. I'm guessing it's about... twenty Eagles, perhaps. And just serve me the usual."

"If yeh say so," Sam shrugged, grabbing the coins and examining one of them closely. He chuckled, patting his rotund stomach. "Peculiar, ain't it? I definitely gotta go to up to Canada one of those days..."

Humming softly, the large man waddled into the tiny, cramped kitchen of _The Winged Crup_, leaving Jasper staring at the used wood of the counter. The sound of a young couple approaching made him turn in his stool.

"Hey, Professor Saylor," the young man and woman said, nodding to him. Jasper nodded back to him, smiling internally; he'd only been a Professor at the Salem Institute of Magic for a short while, but he must have done a good job to have merited such a good reception from the students, he reasoned.

"Hello, Vince," Jasper greeted. "Hello, Shirley. How have your studies in England been going so far?"

"Merlin, Professor, if you knew how _rich_ in history the Ministry of Magic is!" Shirley gushed in her slight Australian accent, grinning widely. Chuckling to himself, Jasper smirked a bit; his former student didn't seem to notice. "I _love_ working for International Cooperation! The employees there are so nice, so polite – like home – especially Mr Malfoy, who's my supervisor!"

_Mr Malfoy? Is he, with any chance, related to Lucius?_ Jasper wondered, frowning. Yes, that would have to Draco. The last time he'd seen Lucius' son, Draco had been a baby, and his older sister Harmonia had been just over a year old; it was hard to believe that they were adults now. And Narcissa – what had happened to his cousin? Was Andromeda, also, still alive, with her Mud- Muggle-born husband and half-blood daughter?

Shifting from his thoughts, Jasper noticed with amusement that Vince seemed a bit jealous of Shirley's liking of Draco Malfoy, if anything.

"Yeah, yeah, Shirl," Vince interrupted. He turned to Jasper with an apologetic smile. "Our studies have been pretty good over there, thank you, sir – I love studying Quidditch. Seriously, it's much better than Quodpot."

"That, I agree on, Vince," Jasper replied with a well-placed smirk. "Me, I used to be a Seeker for my Quidditch team back at school."

It all came to him naturally, now; talking about his past without lying, but omitting enough information to not let any of them discover his true identity. It'd been hard at first, with his telltale British accent, but after living in America for forty-odd years, most of his accent had all but diminished. Jasper and his old paranoia were _very_ thankful for that.

"That's wicked cool," Vince said distractedly. Waving a hand, he smiled, "But that's enough about me, Professor. Say, how's Birmingham?"

"As it always is." Jasper thought that Birmingham, Alabama was one of those wizarding settlements that never seemed to change. In his mid-twenties, he and a few chums had started a cauldron importation/exportation company, which had a branch among others in Birmingham. Since Jasper was in charge of that branch, he regularly visited it. "Stopped for a bit in Ottawa afterwards."

Both Vince and Shirley mustered apologetic expressions. "We heard about Ben," Vince said quietly. "And Shirley and I are sorry for your loss."

_Don't mention it. I'm used to losing people, it's the soundtrack of my life._ "It's okay," Jasper murmured, shaking his head. Ben had been so young... What was more, the poor child looked very much like Evan used to look – and with Jasper's brother's athletic abilities as well. At least Ben had died doing something he enjoyed...

There was an awkward silence, and then Shirley lifted her head and said, "Professor, me and Vince are getting married at some time in mid-June – would you like to attend our wedding?"

Jasper nodded, his mouth curving into a slight smile. "Sure, Shirley," he agreed. "Will it be in Australia?"

From what he gathered, Shirley Avery's parents bred winged horses in the Australian Outback and had decided to send their eldest daughter to the Salem Institute of Magic instead of Australia's school of witchcraft and wizardry, since Mrs Avery fared from Salem herself.

Shirley shook her head. "We're not sure yet-"

"But it definitely won't be in Great Britain," Vince cut in – the young man's family were British immigrants, and his maternal grandfather still worked at the British Ministry of Magic as an Obliviator. "The situation's pretty bad there."

A construction worker sitting near them snorted, setting down his Butterbeer. "_Ben ouais_, zat is obvious," he said in a thick Quebec French accent. Nodding slightly, he took another sip of his beverage and continued, "I 'ad a business meeting zere, at zeir _Ministre de Magie_ – you know zeir school, 'Ogwarts? Ze _directrice_ was taken – imagine! – by zat madwoman Lestrange! _Ts__é_, _j'me sens tellement mal pour ce p'tit Potter_ – everyone knows 'e is ze real leader of ze British."

"Potter's the head of the Aurors, one of the most powerful wizards in world, to have defeated Voldemort; yet he doesn't seem to be able to do anything," Vince said thoughtfully, rubbing his temple. "Huh."

"The Squib Filch's trial's been on for two days now," said Shirley. "So far, his future seems quite bleak, according to what I've heard."

"These cases never end well," Jasper responded. _If I know the Ministry._ _Believe me, I know exactly what I'm talking about. _

* * *

"Athena, you've done a good job," Lupa announced. Athena tried to not look as the she-wolf continued to tear at the dead deer's flesh, chewing noisily. "Ladies Aphrodite, Nemesis, and Artemis – very good, indeed. The Amazons and Lord Ares: perfect! And your demigods are in England, as our mine, which is perfectly in order. Would you like some of this?"

She gestured to the dead deer with a bloody paw.

Athena tried to not look disgusted. "No, thank you, Lupa," she managed.

The she-wolf shrugged and looked up from her dinner momentarily. "And I'm delighted to announce that I, too, have a catch of my own." She prowled away from the dead deer and disappeared in the woods for a moment.

When Lupa finally came out, she emerged with a man limping at her wake, with his left leg was in a steel brace and a wild brown beard with sparks of fire flying out of it from time to time. His shock at seeing Athena in the clearing mirrored the goddess's. Lupa didn't seem to notice. "Here is Lord Hephaestus," she said.

Hephaestus's brown eyes stared into Athena's grey. "So you're the one behind this whole organisation," he mused, crossing his muscular arms.

Athena looked right back at him, at the welts and the bruises on his face, without ever so flinching, and tilted her head slowly. "Yes, it was me who did this all behind Zeus' back," she answered, staring at him as if to dare to tattle on her.

The god laughed, a booming, good-hearted sound. "Figures, my Lady. Figures."

No one was aware of the heart beating hard against her ribcage. No one knew that the virgin goddess Athena was reacting in such a schoolgirl-like way; no one except the goddess in question herself.

And that, she thought sullenly, made it even harder to bear.

* * *

**Okay, so, a few notes for this chapter: **

**1) I love Draco in this chapter :D **

**2) BTW, you'd have to have read The Son of Neptune to understand who's the augur Megara is referring to. **

**3) Jasper Saylor may seem kind of random at first, but I promise that he actually has to do with the story. To get a clue, I suggest you go back to Chapter 10 and read carefully. **

**4) The construction worker _was_ random, though, but since I know a fair deal of Quebecois French slang myself, I decided to put him there :P BTW, what he says is mostly slang, so if you're learning French - well, rest assured, but you won't really get this :P **

**5) Oh yeah, and Athena might seem a bit OOC in this chapter, but it actually kinda makes sense. Aphrodite in the previous chapter? Hmm, maybe she didn't like getting told off by Nemesis because of Athena :P **

**6) Meh, that's all, I think, so - **

**Please read and review, especially if you favourite/alert! **


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